


The Moonlight War

by BoredOneNight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/M, Full Scale War, Hogwarts Sixth Year and on, Luna/OC Centric, Novel, Old School Adventure, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:55:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 29
Words: 158,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1948977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoredOneNight/pseuds/BoredOneNight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Luna was always so vague and ethereal – at least in Ginny’s eyes – it was rather shocking to receive such a straight answer. But as Ginny looked past Luna lying on the sofa, off her sore feet, eyes closed and a smile on her face, she thought she might understand her friend’s reasoning. She and Michael truly had a very beautiful home, but what was more, they had a wonderful life. Ginny knew from the stories Harry told her that the two of them, just as much as Harry himself, had had a very difficult time so far in this war, but it seemed Michael and Luna were determined to live their lives in open defiance of it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Midnight Exercise

 

 

**AN: I think an author's note is necessary here at the beginning to explain a few things before you begin reading. First, it's probably important for the reader to know that this story is - for the most part - complete. It totals 125 chapters, plus an epilogue. Revisions are being done on the fly as chapters are posted, but the story is finished. Since the story doesn't start with Harry, it's worth mentioning for context that it begins shortly after the battle in the Department of Mysteries. A final (and rather important) note is that Luna's birth date is changed to put her a year above Harry, instead of below. It was necessary to make the timeline work and that change is the only outright revision of canon, although as a very AU story canon is - lovingly - altered throughout. Characters stay true to who they are, I swear you won't find a brooding antihero Harry, a sobbing, head-over-heels in love Draco, or a suddenly "curvy in all the right places" Luna. I really hope you'll enjoy reading Moonlight War as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

* * *

 

_Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live. - Norman Cousins_

* * *

 

Michael Jacobs had his face in his hands, rubbing his temples with his palms.  
  
"Go over this one more time for me."  
  
General Staffon glared at him, narrowing his eyes at the much younger man who sat before him.  
  
"You're running this job alone. You'll Apparate far enough away to avoid detection and continue on by foot, then –"  
  
"No, I understand this job just fine," Michael said, pulling up his head and waving his hand distractedly. "Explain the next one – sir," he added quickly, noting the look on the old man's face. Insubordination didn't amuse Staffon much, but Michael felt it suited him.  
  
"Jacobs, we're on a very limited time-table here!" Staffon said harshly. Michael flinched at the volume of his voice and quickly drew his wand, casting a Silencing charm around the small room. It wasn't exactly protocol to have these meetings in his little London apartment, but convenience of Apparating had forced him and his leader into his home, Michael sitting on the edge of the sofa while the older man paced around him. Staffon sighed. "Fine. You, Allero, and Crystalake will be leaving for Hogwarts School in September, posing as students in your sixth year. We'll handle any probing questions from the Board of Governors –"  
  
"And Dumbledore?" Michael asked sharply. "He  _is_ in on this, right? I'm good at what I do, but I don't really like the idea of living there under the nose of the god of all Wizards without his consent."  
  
"Dumbledore has agreed," Staffon replied. "He doesn't trust the Auror protection the Ministry sent him –" Michael snorted and rolled his eyes "– and he and I have some history. He agreed to allow the three of you in his school as long as you behave. You  _will_ behave, won't you Jacobs?"  
  
Michael grinned. "Well…you want me to get friendly with Harry Potter and his friends, I might have to get up to at least a little trouble to pull it off."  
  
"That's fine," Staffon said after a moment. "Neither of us cares if you and Potter get caught sneaking around outside at night, as long as he stays alive and Weasley serves our purpose." Michael frowned a little at that. General Staffon had a very…blunt way of putting things, a way that often framed Michael's missions in tones that made him uncomfortable.  
  
"So are there any major rules I should be careful of then?" Michael asked, standing up now and rolling his neck, readying himself for what he knew was coming.  
  
"Just one," Staffon said, looking Michael straight in the eye. Michael tightened his grip on his wand almost unnoticeably. He knew what Staffon was about to say, but he couldn't react…not yet. He couldn't act on what he had learned before he decided how he felt about it himself.  
  
"And that is?"  
  
"Stay away from Ravenclaw house," Staffon answered plainly.  
  
"Ravenclaw?" Michael repeated. "Why? I thought Slytherin was the one that churned out Dark Wizards like a damn printing press."  
  
"The Ravenclaws are known as the eccentric minds of Hogwarts," Staffon told him. "Highly intelligent, incredibly creative, but sometimes a little…detached. Head in the clouds."  
  
"So there's not much chance I'll end up accidently sorted into Ravenclaw then?" Michael laughed. Staffon's expression did not change.  
  
"You'll be a Gryffindor, like we've already established. You'll have to be to stay close to Potter."  
  
"And if I'm sorted somewhere else?" Michael challenged. "If the Hat decides my ramblings are actually genius and puts me in Ravenclaw?"  
  
"You'll be a Gryffindor," Staffon repeated seriously. "It's one of the few things about you I'm certain of."  
  
"You obviously have some reservations about this job, if you're sending me," Michael said frankly. He didn't necessarily mean for it to sound so arrogant, but it was true.  
  
General Staffon shook his head. "You survived Voldemort once and were damn lucky to do it. If I remember correctly that little experience is how you ended up an  _ex_ -Auror and one of us instead."  
  
Michael rubbed the back of his neck. He had two reasons for not turning against the old man after learning what he recently had. For one, General Staffon was frankly far more powerful than he was, and whatever dueling skills Michael possessed, he knew the man could and would destroy him. And secondly…he did owe Staffon a debt for pulling him out of one of the darkest places he had been in his life some six months earlier, giving him a new job and a new life. "If you say so, General. Guess it's time to go do it, right?"  
  
"Don't die," Staffon replied. Michael chuckled and shook his head.  
  
"Advice I don't need, sir. Feel free to stick around my house while I'm gone, have some parties, play with the light switches, just please…don't drink my Firewhiskey. It's the only bottle I've got."  
  
And on that note Michael took a breath and turned in place, concentrating as hard as he could on achieving a quiet Apparation.

* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Michael sprinted through the forest, trying to keep as quiet as he could. His mind buzzed louder in his head than the insects did around him, distracting him to point of almost total unawareness. A thousand thoughts clouded a mind he knew he needed to keep clear for his mission, but it was useless. The threat of attack coming from any direction wasn't enough to derail his train of thought; it steamed resolutely along towards its destination of more questions and angry thoughts.  
  
"Damn!"  
  
Michael's internal groaning came to an abrupt end as he tripped over a large root jetting out from a nearby tree. He immediately froze on the ground and listened.  
  
He was not enjoying his little midnight jog through the forest as it was, and while dueling with a Death Eater might add some excitement, he was horribly tired and – like he had heard many girls tell him – just not in the mood.  
  
Convinced no one had heard him, he brushed himself off and stood back up. Michael supposed not being terribly tall was helpful for a sneaking mission like this, though he stood a respectable height. He ran his right hand quickly back and forth through his dark brown hair, clearing out any lingering dirt.  
  
"Right…" Michael muttered to himself, his face red. "No one saw that. No friends, so I'm not humiliated, no Death Eaters, so I'm not dead. Excellent." He took off again, now glad he put more effort in his conditioning than his fellow Wizards. The trees became less dense as he continued, until the forest faded away around him and revealed his quarry. A tower stood against the natural backdrop, as tall as any of the trees and from what Michael had been told, older than any of them as well.  
  
Michael trusted the night to hide him and crossed the remaining distance until he was right up against the building. Looking closer, Michael was struck by two things. First, the entire tower seemed to be sculpted out of a single piece of stone, not many stacked together. Second, the shape and stature of the building caused his heart to jump up against his ribcage. He had seen a building very similar to this recently, and even this imitation of it made Michael uneasy. But that was not for now.  
  
Michael needed a plan. If his information was accurate, and it usually was, the building was three floors total and was home to about ten Death Eaters, at least as of three days ago. The first was living quarters for the Death Eaters stationed there, the second was made of two rooms, one was a training room for dueling practice, and the other was a meeting room.  
  
Michael guessed the third floor was probably the best guarded, as that was where the stone was. All three floors, plus the roof, were connected by wooden ladders, making it difficult to move from floor to floor quickly.  
  
He sighed and shook his head. He would've preferred a little help for this. Not much, of course, no one to get in his way…but a few of his friends might've been a boon here. But they were on break, and he was on call. And somehow, Michael always got these kinds of calls. Experience had taught him – painfully – that he was neither the most intelligent nor the most powerful Wizard to be had, though he was working on that. In the end, Michael usually got the job done, and that was all STRIKE command ever asked of him.  
  
This reputation had begun early in his career with STRIKE and he had enjoyed it at the beginning; the prestige had helped revive him from a deep depression. Yet as time passed, no amount of praise or promotions could obscure the truth from Michael. He was no great Wizard, a better fighter than a leader, and past those imperfections, questions more personal than professional plagued him.  
  
Michael intended to see them put to rest. He would become the greatest Wizard STRIKE had to offer. He would take charge of his situation. Michael's wand spluttered out a few sparks as he renewed his promise to move forward, into a better life…a new life. The mission would be the start of that. Michael shook his head again and took stock.  
  
He backed up a little off the wall to check the roof for any guards, not seeing anyone, he considered his options. It was late; most Death Eaters would probably be asleep.  
  
Yes, that was where he would start. If he could get into their rooms and silently Stun them, it would be a lot less work once they realized he was there. Then another option came to mind, one Mad-Eye Moody would have heartily approved of. They were dangerous Death Eaters; they killed and tortured for fun, but could he…? He had killed before, obviously, it was part of his job.  
  
He hated the Death Eaters, after all they had taken from him they deserved to die, and if they attacked he would kill them, with none too much regret. But murdering them in their beds...that was completely different. Michael stood, pressed against the building, rain pounding his head, for a full minute.  
  
The phrase " _The Greater Good_ " flashed through his mind more than once. Finally he made his decision. He would Stun anyone asleep, do his job, then come back tomorrow with a full squad and arrest the Death Eaters.  
  
It was likely, he knew, that most of them would fight, and probably be killed, but at least he'd be able to sleep tonight.  
  
The door was made of wood, easily destroyed, however Michael simply unlocked it with a whispered, " _Alohamora"_  and walked in, hearing his steps as if they were boulders falling. He looked around, watching for any lookouts or traps, but saw none.  
  
He was standing in a large room with a stone floor, a few couches and chairs, a bookshelf against a wall, about six doors, and a fireplace against another wall. He turned to a door at random when he realized what was wrong. There was still a fire in the fireplace. He froze.  
  
Everyone should be asleep. There wouldn't still be a fire in the fireplace unless -  
  
He was just about to creep through the door closest to his left when Rowle pushed through it, still wearing his Death Eater robes and holding a glass of gin. They looked at each other for a full three seconds before the glass shattered on the floor as both drew their wands and fired their curses.  
  
Rowle was hit square in the face by the Stunner while Michael deflected Rowle's Killing Curse, with a sweep of his wand, blowing a large hole in the wall and no doubt waking every Death Eater in the building.  
  
Michael had just enough time to get a growled "Dammit!" out through his clenched teeth as five more Death Eaters, these in their night clothes, though all with their wands out burst through another door. Michael yelled " _Protego_!" just in time for the invisible shield to erupt and take the force of the five curses, two of them being Unforgivable. The last two powered through the shimmering wall, barely missing Michael.  
  
"Why not stealth?" was Michael's immediate thought. He dove behind the elegant sofa, just avoiding another curse. He slapped himself across the face. Of  _course_ an Invisibility Cloak, even a Disillusionment Charm would've saved him trouble here. He gave his wand a jerk and jabbed it into the stuffing in the back of the sofa. If he just hadn't been so  _preoccupied_ with  _things_ – Michael muttered " _Dyanmo_!" under his breath – he wouldn't have to fight these bastards!  
  
"Scared, Jacobs?" called on of the Death Eaters. Considering whether he should be proud or terrified they knew his name, Michael withdrew his wand from the now glowing sofa and made a sweeping motion with his right arm across his body, jerking his shoulder in its socket with the effort.  
  
The effect was worth it though, as the seat slid forward across the ground at the Dark Wizards, its four short legs shrieking as they scratched the floor. The flying furniture caught two of the Death Eaters, who doubled over it, the air knocked out of them. In the next moment Michael had pulled himself to his feet to run for the exit and the Death Eaters had taken aim at them. A second later, the room was full of wooden shrapnel and burning cloth as the sofa exploded like a bomb. The two Death Eaters who had – unwillingly – thrown themselves on the live bomb took the brunt of the explosion. They were dead before anyone had realized what had happened.  
  
The three Death Eaters who survived looked up just in time to see Michael sprint through a door and race up the wooden ladder leading to the second floor. He rolled left the second he reached the top of the ladder, narrowly avoiding losing an arm to  _Sectumsempra_ , he fired a random Blasting Curse in the direction the spell had come from, and judging by the following scream, it hit somebody.  
  
The spell had come from the left, so he ran full speed to his right, which took him down a long hallway and making him devotedly hope there was no one left behind him because if someone fired a curse down that hallway, he was as good as dead.  
  
To his relief, he reached a wooden door, through it open shut it behind him, and sealed it with a locking spell. Panting he bent over with his hands on his knees, and looked up. Then he realized his problem.  
  
Apparently four Death Eaters had chosen this room to lurk in, and he found himself in the middle of a semi-circle of Death Eaters, his back to the door he had just locked so thoroughly. His wand was shot out of his hand even as he raised it to the Death Eater directly in front of him.  
  
It flew off into the darkness and he heard it hit somewhere far away. Scowling, he looked at his captors. They were all in their trademark black robes, half also in hoods.  
  
As he raised his hands in surrender, the Death Eater in front of him removed her hood. Bellatrix Lestrange stood in front of him, her wand pointed at his chest and a triumphant smile on her evil face. She waited until the other Death Eaters removed their hoods before speaking. A bitter taste of fury and hatred washed around in Michael's mouth at the sight of her. But he knew he had to keep the anger in check, or he would never escape alive….  
  
"So, little boy, what brings you here tonight?" she taunted, still with her evil smile. Michael glanced around before answering, he recognized a few; Dolohov, Mulciber, Nott; this wouldn't be easy.  
  
"Well I definitely didn't come to see if you're as easy to bed as I hear, I like women you see." He needed to stall but knew he was asking for a beating if he kept on like this. "Hey, I don't suppose Draco Malfoy is here, is he?" he added in a mock hopeful voice.  
  
"If the things I hear about him are true, he has a certain feminine air to him, one that  _you_ however, lack," he finished with a smirk he wasn't sure how long he'd be able to keep. He braced himself for the Cruciatus Curse, but was shocked, actually more unnerved, when Bellatrix simply smiled.  
  
"As easy as you hear, hmmm? Now who could have told you that…? Surely not your old friend, hmmm? Did Owen tell you that?" She had taken a step closer to Michael, who had unconsciously dropped his hands to his sides. His right hand scratched furiously at his pantleg. If only he had a wand….  
  
Bella shook her head. "It's too bad about the boy. But you know, Michael Jacobs, he was better as my  _partner_  than yours…." She waited, daring Michael to attack. At this point Michael actually shut his eyes for a moment. It was all he could do to stay calm. Bellatrix retreated back a couple steps, looking disappointed. "No, my dear nephew isn't here right now, but don't worry, we certainly will have a guest."  
  
"Damn it _,_ " Michael thought, "I need to concentrate, listening to her talk is just about as bad as Vol –"  
  
The Dark Lord," she finished grandly.  
  
Michael felt his smirk fall for the first time. He barely noticed Bellatrix taunting him again.  
  
"Are you scared, little boy?" She leaned closer and he could smell strong perfume as she whispered "Don't worry, you might not even know what's happening to you by the time my master gets, here. Then again, I doubt you'll crack by then...it will be fun to find out though." He really hoped she didn't hear the mutter he added.  
  
"So why areyou here then?" Bella asked again, twirling her wand around her fingers. She rolled it over her index finger with her thumb, then returned it to safety in her palm.  
  
Michael rubbed the back of his neck. "Archeology project," he finally muttered. Bellatrix laughed at that, though Michael didn't think she really found it that funny.  
  
"So you  _are_ here for the stone?" she asked.  
  
"I might be," Michael eluded her, "let me ask you something – before you kill me – why are  _you_ out here?"  
  
Bellatrix seemed genuinely confused at that. "The Dark Lord has placed us here to guard this stone," she said slowly. "Are you too stupid to understand that, Mudblood?"  
  
"No, I understand guard duty just fine," Michael shot back. "But I don't understand why you're guarding it here? You found it here, right? Why not take it back to Voldemort and give it to him."  
  
"How do you know that's not what we've done?" crowed one Death Eater.  
  
"Because," Michael said irritably, "the damn stone is  _here_. It doesn't make any sense if Voldemort wants it and it's here and – oh shit Voldemort's living here, isn't he?" His eyes widened as the realization crushed him.  
  
Bellatrix's grin couldn't have been wider. "The Dark Lord does have quarters here Jacobs. Welcome to our trap. He's taken up residence here to study to stone, evade the Aurors, and yes, corner you boy. He's away at the moment, but he knows you're here…he'll join us shortly."  
  
Michael's brain processed about fifty emotions at once, the primary one being anger, grief and disappointment close behind. Not long ago, he would've welcomed a shot at the Dark Lord – though preferably with his wand – but now things had changed. Michael had learned things recently he refused to take to his grave. Michael had been saved by a new purpose in life, and he couldn't allow that life to end here, at Voldemort's hands.  
  
She smiled one last time before stepping back, pointing her wand at Michael's determined face and saying, almost with love in her voice,  _Cruci –_  ah!" for Michael slammed into Dolohov, knocking him into a wall and avoiding Bellatrix's curse.  
  
Michael wrestled Dolohov's wand away from him and quickly pointed it at him, holding it to his throat. Dolohov was up against the wall, Michael keeping him pressed there with his own wand. The other Death Eaters were watching with their wands pointed at him.  
  
"Drop 'em," Michael commanded, his back still to the Death Eaters. "Your wands, on the floor."  
  
"His life for yours?" Bella asked playfully, and Michael knew she was smiling, "Do you really think the Dark Lord would not trade?"  
  
Michael sneezed suddenly, wiping his nose with his left hand. Dolohov looked furious as Michael sneezed on him, but then Michael reajusted his wand and his expression cleared.  
  
"Sorry," he said casually. "Bit of a cold." He sighed. Taking his time, he released Dolohov, returned his wand to him, and turned around, his hands in the air. "Fine, fine... You got me."  
  
"That wasn't much of a fight," one of the Death Eaters sneered. But Bellatrix wasn't smiling any longer.  
  
"No... no it wasn't," she said slowly. "I don't know what you're planning, Jacobs, but you won't have time for it." She pointed her wand at him. " _Avada Ke -"_  
  
" _STUPEFY_!" Dolohov bellowed.  
  
Time seemed to slow down as curses shot everywhere, some at Michael, some at Dolohov, and some at the other Death Eaters. He hit the ground to avoid the many spells, rolled onto his feet, trusting the darkness to hide him, ducked down and ran towards the direction his wand had gone. It had worked.  
  
He still couldn't believe it, he actually managed to pass of the Imperius Curse as a sneeze...Quick thinking for a man who never graduated school, Michael thought to himself.  
  
He ducked farther down as more curses shot at him; apparently they were done with Dolohov. Then he saw his wand, and could it be more perfect, it was lying at the bottom rung of a wooden ladder he knew would take him to his objective. He nearly flew up the ladder, pushed open the trapdoor above his head, and prayed he wasn't about to be caught in a second trap.  
  
He climbed the top rung stood up, kicked the door shut, and performed the same locking spell he had trapped himself with earlier. He looked around. The room was thankfully empty of people who wanted him dead in the most painful way possible. He relaxed a bit, knowing his lock would last a long time, though not forever.  
  
This room was lit by candles all around the room. The candles, strangely, did not seem to be melting down, they simply burned. Glancing around he realized he was at the far end of the room, with a dark red carpet down the middle, with tall pillars on either side of it, on which the candles were burning.  
  
At the end of the carpet was what Michael took for nothing more than a large stone block, but he now realized seemed to project a kind of aura, above which, a stone tablet was floating apparently unsupported.  
  
"A rock floating by itself," Michael muttered, shaking his head. "How do I miss these things?"  
  
He walked over to the stone block, looking around for traps as he did. When he reached the slab, he took out his wand and muttered " _Specialas Revilio_." Experience had taught him not to just go around grabbing floating stone tablets. When his spell showed him no immediate danger, he gingerly reached out his left hand – just in case – and grabbed the tablet.  
  
It seemed not to want to move, but that was easily solved. Stepping back and pointing his wand at the stone he said " _Accio Stone_ ". It immediately flew into his hands; Michael took a moment to look it over.  
  
The stone was about a foot wide and a foot and a half long, and covered in some kind of writing Michael couldn't read.  
  
He thought it might be Runes, but couldn't ponder the stone any longer as he heard a number of spells hit the trapdoor under him. His eyes snapped to the ladder in a corner, which he assumed led to the roof. He ran towards it, tucking the stone under his arm. He climbed the ladder, pushed open the door and stood up, feeling the wind and rain on his face. Then he felt something else.  
  
It was pain beyond pain, as if he was being stabbed by a thousand hot knives. He fell to the ground and his wand rolled away. He heard laughter and felt the curse lift. He staggered to his feet and saw his attacker. Apparently, Alecto Carrow had decided to wait on the roof for him. Third time tonight he had been ambushed…he'd leave that bit out of the report, assuming he survived.  
  
He cursed, himself, Voldemort, and the anti-Apparation wards on the building. Carrow laughed as the door leading to the roof burst open and three more Death Eaters including, he was surprised to see, Dolohov, poured onto the roof.  
  
He quickly back away, as far as he could get from them, until he felt the cold rock of the rampart on his back. He looked down, he was at least thirty feet up, so, which would he rather have kill him, Death Eaters or gravity?  
  
The Death Eater's mad laughter filled his ears. There was really no way out of this one, trapped on a small roof, thirty feet up, wandless, and with eleven angry Death Eaters, all of which were certainly not wandless. One of the Death Eaters stepped forward, and Michael saw that it was Dolohov, who had a rather lot of blood in his hair, and which was still flowing from a crack in his skull.  
  
He had no idiotic sneer on his face, only hatred and determination as he pointed his wand at Michael and said "No more screwing around. We are not going to screw this up again. You're going to die in the next thirty seconds, Jacobs." When Michael's face showed no emotion, namely the fear he expected, he sighed, "Any last words?"  
  
Michael looked him straight in the face as he answered. "Can you just tell me what time it is? I always hoped I would die at midnight. It's just… such a peaceful time."  
  
Dolohov kept his wand pointed at Michael as he looked at his watch. "You really are strange Jacobs, but you're too late, it just turned one thirty."  
  
Michael looked up to the sky then turned his face back to Dolohov, careful to keep the false his look of resignation on his face. "Thank you. I guess it's time then." Without wasting anymore time, Dolohov pointed his wand at Michael.  
  
" _Avada -"_ but stopped as Michael dropped to the ground.  
  
Thinking one of his mates had killed him before he could, he turned away from Michael to towards his allies, only to see the looks of terror in their faces. Frowning he turned back towards Michael.  
  
"What the hell's your prob-" but was cut off as he saw what had horrified the others. Five Wizards straddling broomsticks had just become visible, all of them wearing a suit of something resembling plate mail like old knights had worn, painted jet black and with breaks in the armor at the joints to allow flexibility. Each STRIKE agent's head was hidden in a helmet rounded in the back, coming to a generic molded face impression in the front, with the eyes lit up in a glowing green. Before the Death Eaters could react, the STRIKE team opened fire, their spells tearing through the Death Eaters. Dolohov fought the hardest, managing to hit one of the agents in the arm with some kind of purple curse Michael wasn't familiar with. Though the agent dropped his arm and laid it across his broomstick, he managed to hold on and remain airborne.  
  
Michael crawled under the stream of spells and once he was clear, stood up. He stretched out his hand, summoning his wand back to him just as Dolohov fell. Michael panted and addressed his hovering saviors. "We need to go – now."  
  
"You've got the stone?" one of them asked. Michael nodded and gestured with it. The agent who had injured his arm nodded.  
  
"Get on, let's go," he called to Michael. Michael didn't think twice before obeying. Voldemort could be on them at any second. Michael hopped onto the back of the STRIKE agent's broom, and through his exhaustion, he thought he saw one of the others chuckle at him.  
  
"Laugh later, fly now!" Michael snarled at him.  
  
There was a loud explosion beneath them, in the building. "What was that?" asked the man Michael shared a broom with.  
  
"Oh that?" Michael repeated sarcastically. "That's just the  _Dark Lord_ , most likely with his death army." Several more cracks broke the stunned silence. "Yep, that'll be the death army," Michael confirmed. "Let's go!"  
  
All five brooms spun a hundred and eighty degrees and rocketed off away from the tower, rising high above the tree line. Michael looked back down behind them, but the darkness was too thick to see anything.  
  
"He knows we're here?" one agent called to Michael. A series of green spells flew up past them, exploding in the sky above.  
  
"There's your answer," Michael replied. He shifted in his awkward position. Flying with only one hand and behind another man wasn't exactly how Michael preferred it. "I think we're fine though.  
  
"You think he won't follow?"  
  
"Not if we're quick," Michael said. Everyone nodded in agreement, leaned down, and accelerated. It wasn't until they had flown for five minutes – Michael turned around to watch their backs – that anyone spoke.  
  
"So how are you liking the job?" Michael asked his driver, finally relaxing and turning back around.  
  
"I preferred my old work." His answer was gruff, and he didn't look back at Michael as he spoke. Michael frowned, feeling a little guilty.  
  
"I know you did," Michael assured him. "You'll be able to get back to your friends soon. Just as soon as –"  
  
"As soon as I prove I'm not going to go spill all STRIKE's secrets?"  
  
"Well…yeah," Michael admitted. "I vouched for you, you know! But Staffon likes to play things safe."  
  
The man in front made a skeptical noise through his helmet. "Like making you a Captain?"  
  
Michael actually laughed at loud at that. "Point taken. Maybe the old man's just crazy."  
  
"Ah well…" the man sighed. "It's good to be doing good again, fighting Voldemort again."  
  
"About time you got back to work, I mean you have been asleep for some time," Michael told him.  
  
"I think I earned a bit of a rest, actually," he replied defensively.  
  
"I suppose," Michael replied. He paused. "I saw your cousin tonight, by the way."  
  
"Did you?"  
  
Michael nodded. "Yeah, she had me cornered actually…was getting ready to play her favorite game with me. I convinced one of her friends he was on the wrong side though."  
  
The man was silent for a moment. "Did you kill her?"  
  
"No," Michael said. He didn't mention how much he regretted that fact.  
  
"Good," came his reply. "She's mine."  
  
"Bellatrix has injured a lot of us…" Michael said quietly.  
  
"To be fair, she killed me. Well, nearly."  
  
Michael appreciated that comment and chuckled. "You're not dead yet. You never really were…But I have a question for you about that, actually."  
  
"Do you?"  
  
"Yeah...yeah I do," Michael said slowly. "About that scuffle at the Ministry…."  
  
"What about it?"  
  
"Sirius, tell me about Potter's friends," Michael said in a rush. "Tell me about the girl, the one who didn't get hurt."

 


	2. Chapter 2: The Believer

The gentle ripple of the water calmed her, like it always did. Something about the unpredictability of the flow of the river gave Luna a sense of peace, just like when she was little. She covered her mouth with a pale hand to suppress a yawn though, typically, no one else was around.  
  
Her legs dangled off Bottom Bridge and her toes touched the water below. Luna leaned back and stared up at the full moon above, bringing the steaming cup of coffee to her mouth again. The other thing that soothed her, a good cup of coffee. She always added a little bit of Gurdyroot, it gave it a slightly bitterer flavor. Her mother had taught her to make it years ago, before she had died in the accident…  
  
That had certainly changed things, Luna thought. Nothing was the same after Elysina Lovegood had died. Her father had sold their far away house and they had moved to Britain, supposedly to distance themselves from those painful memories, and so Luna could attend Hogwarts, rather than Salem University. Things were hazy, back then. Or perhaps her memories had only recently become so confused.  
  
But the accident that had taken her mother's life… Luna remembered it so vividly, it haunted her dreams more nights than not. She wondered if that was partially responsible for what people called "Loony" Lovegood, but in truth she didn't really care. She was just curious.  
  
In fact, something had happened recently that had piqued her curiosity quite a bit. It was just after the end of term, after she had fought the Death Eaters at the Ministry of Magic with her new friends, Harry, Ron, and Hermione and the others.  
  
She had just Apparated home to find her father in his upstairs room, reading an older edition of the Quibbler. He jumped up at the sight of her and pulled her into a tight hug, which had made her smile.  
  
He didn't let go of her for several long moments, and before he did, he had whispered the thing she had been trying to understand for the last few weeks: "You've got your mother's courage, honey, please, let that be all you inherited…"  
  
She hadn't said anything about it at the time, and neither had Xenophillius. But after they had had their happy reunion, and she had time to think, she started to wonder what that could possibly mean.  
  
Her mother had been a truly amazing witch, she reflected, all the way up until the end. She had worked in the Department of Magical Games and Sports and always had Quidditch tickets to the best matches.  
  
Luna loved Quidditch. She never played, though she did try out for Seeker on the Ravenclaw team her first year. She had been disqualified, and laughed at, at tryouts however, when she had given up her pursuit of the Golden Snitch, which was nearly within reach, and diverted her path off the pitch and high into the sky because she was trying to get away from the Wackspurts trying to attach themselves to her.  
  
That had started a lot of rumors about her, that she was insane, or retarded. Once again, she didn't really care, though did feel a bit of jealousy when Cho Chang was made Seeker instead of her next year. She brushed it off and went about her life however, at first trying to meet people with a smile, though it soon became clear that that wouldn't be so easy.  
  
Luna's thoughts turned back to her mother. Her father had warned her about dwelling on her mother, but Luna never really understood why. Yes, it was sad what had happened, but why was it that anytime she brought her up, over dinner or any other time, her father would become uncharacteristically angry?  
  
Never loud or abusive, far from it. Xeno loved his precious Luna, but he simply refused to ever speak about his dead wife to her.  
  
Luna remembered once, when she was nine, her mother coming into her room in the middle of the night. Luna was curled up under the covers, clutching her stuffed Snorkack doll, though the horn was gone, she couldn't quite remember why.  
  
Her mother gently sat down on the edge of the bed and brushed a strand of blonde hair from Luna's face, softly calling her name. Luna slowly woke up and stretched with a tiny yawn, smiling up at her mother.  
  
"Mommy?" she had asked, still holding the doll, "What time is it? Is something wrong?"  
  
"No, honey, nothing's wrong," Elysina said soothingly, a slightly trembling smile on her face, "It's just…" she paused, and tired as Luna was, she couldn't miss the tear in her mother's eye, "I love you Luna. Don't ever change anything about yourself, no matter what happens in life, okay?"  
  
Luna nodded, though now she felt fearful. She noticed her mother was wearing a traveling cloak complete with a hood and had her wand drawn.  
  
"Are you leaving?" she asked, sitting up and pulling the Snorkack to her chest.  
  
"Yes, and I'm going to be gone awhile," her mother said, "I have something very important to do, and I have to leave immediately."  
  
"But why do you have to go now?" Luna asked curiously, "Is there a big match coming up?  
  
"Yes, Luna, something big is coming up, and I have to take care of it. I promise, I'll be back as soon as I can be." Luna stared at her mother for a moment, lips parted. Something wasn't right.  
  
"But why do you have to leave now?" Luna asked again. "Can't it wait till morning? I thought you were making waffles tomorrow!"  
  
Elysina chuckled and discreetly wiped the tear from her eye.  
  
"Luna, you are a gift from heaven," she said, smiling. "Whatever happens, whatever anyone tells you, never forget that. I love you so much," she kissed her on the forehead and gently pushed her back into a lying position.  
  
"I love you too Mommy," Luna said automatically, "But don't stay gone too long, okay?" She motioned for her to lean close and she did so, so that Luna could whisper into her ear, "Because Daddy can't cook."  
  
Elysina laughed. "I know he can't, but he tries, so be nice, okay?"  
  
"Okay, if he needs help, I can make some things!' she said brightly, "You taught me how to cook eggs, remember?"  
  
"Yes, honey, I remember," Elysina said. "I have a feeling you'll be making breakfast for your dad a lot soon…"  
  
"I'll take care of him," Luna said seriously, "just come back as soon as you can."  
  
"Sure thing honey," Elysina said, pulling the covers up and tucking her daughter in. "And I'll tell you what, I'll bring you back a present, how's that sound?"  
  
"Great!" Luna said enthusiastically, "What is it?"  
  
Elysina looked deep into Luna's pale eyes for a moment, and then said, "I can't tell you honey, it's part of the surprise."  
  
"Oh, well," Luna said with a little huff, "Bye, Mommy."  
  
"Goodbye, Luna," Elysina said softly, kissing her daughter on the forehead again. "And remember, you are a gift. Never, ever, ever, forget that."  
  
Elysina had left after that and she fell asleep after saying a quick prayer to keep her mother safe. She rolled over and fell back asleep soon, knowing her mother would return, like she always did.  
  
About a week passed, and Luna didn't worry too much about her mother. It was typical of Elysina to have to go on long trips to faraway countries, to book matches or such things. She noticed her father was oddly on edge and irritable, but she supposed that he simply missed his wife like she missed her mother.  
  
Then, after ten whole days, Elysina had Apparated into their kitchen during dinner. Her mother had been a beautiful woman, but just then Luna could barely stomach the sight of her. Her left arm was in a sling and there were a number of cuts and scratches, some looking deep, on her face. She stumbled into the third chair at the dinner table, and sighed.  
  
"Mommy, what happened to you?" Luna asked immediately, before Xeno could say anything. She quickly jumped up to hug her mother. "How did this all happen?" she asked, close to crying. Luna was tough, but seeing her mother like this was more than she could bear.  
  
Elysina shut her eyes, then opened them and quickly glanced at Xenophillius, who was staring wide-eyed at her. She hitched a smile on her face and stood up so that Luna could wrap her arms around her.  
  
"You know I'm not very good on a broom Luna, not like you," Elysina said as Luna squeezed her tightly. "I was in Ireland, organizing a match, you know, and one of the players offered me a ride on her broom. I couldn't resist, but I got a little carried away, and fell."  
  
"You fell off a broom?" Luna asked, as Xeno stood up and pulled a drink out of the refrigerator. "Are you okay? Does it hurt?"  
  
"I'm fine honey," Elysina said relaxingly, "Your mom's tough, I can take care of myself. Thanks Xeno," she added, taking the Firewhiskey from her husband.  
  
"So you got everything set up?" Xeno asked, embracing his wife as Luna released her. "Things going to go our way?"  
  
Luna didn't really understand the question, but assumed he meant England beating Ireland in the upcoming match.  
  
"I think so," Elysina said, after considering him for a moment. "And speaking of Quidditch, I promised to bring you something, remember Luna?"  
  
"Yeah, I remember!" Luna said excitedly, "You got me something? What is it? Do you have it with you?"  
  
"Well, you said you wanted to play Seeker when you start at Salem in a few years, right?"  
  
"Oh, yes, I'd love to!' Luna said cheerfully, "Did you get me a Snitch to practice with? The one you already got me is great, but a new one never hurts, does it?"  
  
"No, Luna it's not a Snitch," Elysina said quietly, "I think these will help you, though."  
  
She reached into the pocket of her robes with her good arm and pulled out a pair of old looking gloves. Luna took them with a sense of awe. They were made of something leather like, the bottoms were midnight black; the tops of the hand and fingers were a dark blue color.  
  
"Seeker's gloves!" she said breathlessly. "They're beautiful!" She slipped them on and flexed her hands.  
  
"Where did you get those?" Xeno asked, watching as Luna beamed down at her hands.  
  
"Dublin," Elysina told him, "A little shop near the stadium."  
  
"Always so thoughtful," Xeno said with a smile. He kissed his wife quickly on the lips, which Luna didn't notice. She was too busy taking in the good feeling coming over her. She also failed to notice the wink Elysina gave her husband.  
  
Luna still had those gloves, eight years later. They had some sort of charm on them that had caused them to enlarge over the years as she grew, so that they still fit her.  
  
She rarely wore them, only on days she really needed to go right. She had taken them to the Ministry at the end of last year and had been the only one to suffer no real harm, so she found extremely easy to believe that the gloves really did bring luck.  
  
And even if they didn't, so what, Luna thought. They were a reminder of her mother, one of the last things she had to remember her by. That was reason enough to wear them.  
  
She suddenly looked up at the sky. Something had just shot across the dark backdrop, too fast to tell what it was. She turned her head slightly, staring at the spot where the dark mass had been a second ago.  
  
"A Ravenwing?" she asked out loud, to herself. "Hmm, I'll have to ask Dad if they go that fast…"  
  
She sighed and stood up, stretching her arms out wide in the moonlight. Done meditating, she headed back up the winding down road that led back to her house, humming to herself, her radish earrings swinging as she went.  
  
 


	3. Chapter 3: Drinks and Debates

Jeff Allero placed his hand gently on another patron's shoulder and muttered a quiet "Excuse me," as he pushed past him without making eye contact. He finally reached the bar and smiled at the aging barmaid. "Couple Firewhiskeys?"  
  
The aging barmaid smiled back at him, nodded, and turned around to get the drinks. Meanwhile, Jeff looked over his shoulder and took in the scene.  
  
It was storming outside, the crashes of thunder and lightning making it difficult to hear the person next to you, and yet every now and again he could still make out bits of conversations from the other patrons. Three large men sat at one table, discussing their jobs, which judging by their muttering and complaining, entailed a good deal of heavy lifting.  
  
In a corner were two men and three women, who were constantly looking around the room, a dead giveaway they were involved in something illegal. Jeff didn't mind the storm, not tonight, anyway. It was his night off and he was going to enjoy a drink with his friend without worrying about anybody trying to curse him off the face of the earth. It was a night to forget about the war. He turned back to the bar as the woman handed him his drinks.  
  
"That'll be eight sickles," she told him. The information was unnecessary though, as Jeff had long ago memorized the drink prices at Wanda's. He handed her the coins and sighed as a loud yell came from a table in the corner.  
  
"Hey you trying to get lucky? At least drop off my drink before chatting her up."  
  
Jeff shook his head, "Two drinks and he's off his ass?" But both he and Wanda laughed as he said it.  
  
"At least you know I don't water down my drinks," Wanda sympathized. "Well, go give baby his bottle then."  
  
"Right, thanks."  
  
As he turned and walked away he heard her call, "But I still want to hear about that mission to Taiwan, then maybe you'll get lucky!" He raised the bottle in his right hand in acknowledgement as he crossed the bar to his friend at their table.  
  
Jeff caught a pair of eyes watching him as he walked. He knew he seemed out of place here, but that was how he preferred it. At eighteen, he was significantly younger than most of the other patrons. His youthful face, sandy hair, and lack of three foot beard set him apart from the other Wizards at Wanda's, yet standing out was fine here. He and his friends had chosen this particular spot due to the characters that frequented it, not despite them. Jeff knew several of them were probably contemplating robbing him at this very moment.  
  
But that was fine. They could think whatever they wanted. The important part was that no one ever said anything. It was an unspoken rule – no questions. Jeff, like many of his friends, had a difficult time explaining what he did for a living, as well as the bruises, cuts, burns, and scars that came with the job.  
  
Here, no one asked. No one cared. And that suited the young STRIKE agent just fine.  
  
He sat down across from his friend and handed him his drink. He said, "Thanks" and quickly uncorked it and drained nearly half of it.  
  
Apparently, Kevin Remmer was going to enjoy his night off too. He glanced out the window, at the same time a bolt of lightning illuminated the street outside.  
  
"Man, I'm glad we have tonight off," Kevin muttered. "Death Eaters are bad enough, and I really don't feel like fighting them in a hurricane."  
  
Jeff took a sip of his drink and looked out the window too before saying, "So you think Michael can handle that mission alone, then. You don't think we should have gone?"  
  
Stung, Kevin told him "Well I offered to go to, but he said that he could be stealthier alone and that he would do it himself."  
  
Smiling at hearing the answer he expected he said "Well, if there was one person I would trust to take out a building full of Death Eaters, steal some stone, then get away with it, it would be him…unless he breaks his damn collarbone again, the jackass."  
  
Sitting down his now empty bottle, Kevin asked "So do you actually know what this stone does then? I've heard a bunch of rumors, but I don't know what to believe, and Michael didn't tell me before he left. It was odd, he usually tells us about his missions before he leaves. Well, at least the ones where  _we_  aren't running the risk of coming home in pieces too, that is," he added thoughtfully.  
  
Jeff turned slightly red. In all honesty he knew exactly what their friend was out doing tonight. But he knew Kevin was not one of the few who knew the details of the mission he, Michael, and their friend Sarah had been set. He decided he had to lie.  
  
"You're right", he finally said, "it's weird he wouldn't tell us what he's doing. I think it may have something to do with our next mission. You know, the one to the school," he added significantly.  
  
Kevin smiled as he signaled for anther drink and said "That's right, Michael Jacobs, youngest person ever to be made Captain, is going back to school. I honestly thought he was just going to tell the other Captains to shove it, it wouldn't be the first time."  
  
"Yes…but the alternative was 'looking for' escaped 'Death Eaters' in Antarctica…" Jeff said, before mentally adding, "there are other benefits too though…."  
  
Jeff also raised his empty Firewhiskey and saw Wanda nod and grab second bottle. He privately knew why Michael had accepted such a boring mission, but after all Michael was doing to keep his cover, he supposed he had better do something too.  
  
"You know why he accepted that assignment right?" Kevin said. Jeff narrowed his eyes. Kevin looked very certain of himself…. "He's after a girl." Jeff flushed a little.  
  
"What makes you think that?"  
  
"Well, he just broke up with Tilly out of the blue," Kevin said slowly. Jeff said nothing; Michael had only trusted himself and Sarah with his secret. Kevin was a good friend, but if word got around STRIKE of what Michael had done…being demoted would be getting off easy. Did Kevin know? "I think he just wants a new girlfriend. Course, that won't be easy, dating someone outside the organization never is…but I think he's looking to find someone in a place where he hasn't run all the girls off yet!" He laughed as Wanda delivered their drinks.  
  
Hearing Kevin's tone and words relaxed Jeff immensely. "Well then," Jeff said as Wanda walked away, "let's just hope he doesn't get caught by Bellatrix and end up turning into her boy toy or something."  
  
Shaking his head, Kevin said "Yeah I know she's a monster and all, but I don't think she can do  _that_ mate."  
  
"Then you just don't know her that well."  
  
"Thank God I don't."  
  
"Cheers," Jeff said as they clinked their bottles and turned their thoughts to something other than psychopathic Death Eaters.  
  
"By the way..." Kevin said ominously. Jeff looked curiously at him. "Speaking of girls...you ever gonna get together with Sarah?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm stopping by her house to fool around after this," Jeff replied sarcastically. He snorted. "Me and Sarah? Why?"  
  
"She's hot," Kevin shrugged. "And cool, why not?"  
  
"I don't know," Jeff said iritably, waving a hand at Kevin. "We're just not... Hell, me and her are friends, okay? Plus she yells…oh and her parents think I'm a bad influence. I'm  _not_!" he added, taking a large gulp of the alcohol.  
  
"So I can date her then?" Kevin asked, smirking and raising his eyebrows.  
  
"Don't see why not," Jeff said indifferently, taking another drink and shutting his eyes.  
  
"Brilliant," Kevin said quickly, standing up and brushing his shoulder off. "Seeing as how you don't care."  
  
"You can ask her out if you want," Jeff said easily, his eyes still closed, though his wand was now pointing up at Kevin. "But she probably won't go for a guy with tentacles for arms."  
  
"Checkmate," Kevin smirked, dropping back into his seat. "Little tip though. If you do want to end up with her, you should  _probably_ stop commenting on her boobs and butt every time you see her."  
  
"Why?" Jeff asked in surprise, opening his eyes and staring blankly at Kevin. "They're nice compliments..."  
  
"Yes, 'nice rack' is  _such_  a nice thing to tell a girl," said a sarcastic voice. Sarah Crystalake pulled a chair out from under the table and fell into it next to Jeff, holding a drink and taking a sip. "Even if it is true."  
  
"Hey Sarah," Jeff muttered. "Don't drop into that seat so fast, you might damage your best  _ass_ et."  
  
"Do you  _want_  me to remove your mouth again?" she asked menacingly, waving her wand in front of his face.  
  
"I'm bored," Kevin grumbled. He set down his empty bottle hard on the table. "Let's go do something."  
  
"I just got here," Sarah said indignantly. "What the hell?"  
  
"It's not our fault you took twenty minutes getting here," Jeff said, standing up.  
  
"No, it's my parents'," Sarah said, sounding deeply annoyed. "My mom dragged me to one of her stupid 'get togethers' again. I seriously don't get why she always makes me go to that crap.  
  
"It's so annoying! I have to get a Portkey to America and back, just so I can go to my mom's waste of time get-togethers and find a husband..."  
  
Jeff and Kevin both choked on their drinks. Jeff blinked, looking furious. "A WHAT? You're seventeen! Why the hell are you getting married?"  
  
"I'm not, calm down," Sarah said coolly. "My parents are just from that generation, Purebloods their age are used to that stuff. My mom's just got it in her head that 'a respectable young lady should have a suitor,'" she said scathingly.  
  
Kevin kicked Jeff under the table; Jeff outright hit him in the arm. But then his face relaxed and he laughed. "Well then, there shouldn't be a problem. I see no 'respectable young lady' anywhere."  
  
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Whatever...it's not like my parents are  _really_ pushing it or anything, it's just annoying."  
  
"Hey, your mom's a classy lady!" Jeff said angrily.  
  
Kevin rolled with laughter, but Sarah snapped, "What the hell? You just think she's good looking, which is disgusting, by the way."  
  
"We're not related, what's bad about that?" Jeff demanded.  
  
"So it's okay if I 'accidentally' give your brother a show in that skirt you always comment on?" Sarah asked coolly, raising her eyebrows.  
  
"I  _will_ hit a girl," Jeff seethed.  
  
"Two things," Kevin said quickly, trying to keep the peace. "Yes, Jeff, is the fucking worst, we all know that. Sarah, you could beat Jeff like a Death Eater in Ministry custody, so calm down...or else you'll  _really_ go off when I tell you why Jeff had been practicing Disillusioning so much lately."  
  
Sarah spun to look at Jeff, her face furious and her wand pointed straight at him. "And why might he do that?"  
  
Jeff looked desperately around for an escape, but the only way out was past Sarah, who was glaring a death sentence at him. He grinned very weakly. "Because, uh, cause..." He looked urgently at Kevin, who was still laughing. "Cause...I like boobs?"  
  
"I think I can help you there," Sarah whispered.  
  
Jeff and Kevin exchanged stunned, nonbelieving looks, then Jeff turned to Sarah and said tentatively, "Um, okay... Let's see em."  
  
"You got it," Sarah whispered dangerously. And she waved her wand sideways across Jeff, still seething. Jeff looked down in horror. Kevin laughed even louder.  
  
"He he," he said, pointing gleefully at Jeff. "You've got boobies!"  
  
"Am I supposed to be mad about this?" Jeff asked mildly, admiring the new additions, or at least appearing to.  
  
"Maybe not  _that_ ," Sarah shrugged. "But there are other things you may miss."  
  
His look of glee changing to one of horror, Jeff quickly looked down. "Wait... wait... you didn't... you couldn't..."  
  
"I did," Sarah said lightly. "So what do you guys want to do?"  
  
"Have all my... stuff!" Jeff said angrily, brandishing his wand at Sarah, who looked at it coldly.  
  
"You don't have the balls to hex me," Sarah smirked, knocking his wand away with a small smile. "Literally."


	4. Chapter 4: Escape!

"Ugh." His scar was hurting again. Well, not hurting precisely, it was just… bothering him.  
  
Harry Potter sat up in his bed, realizing he was covered in sweat as he did so. He felt around for his glasses, and finding them, he put them on and tried to make sense of what he had seen. It was another flash into Voldemort's mind, that much was obvious.  
  
He was used to his nights being haunted by visions from the Dark Lord's mind by now, but he was still surprised when he would occasionally get a feeling so strong, he knew exactly what Voldemort was thinking, doing, and planning.  
  
This was one of those more intense visions. As Harry climbed out of bed and walked to his door, he could still feel Voldemort's burning anger, and the name still floated around in his head.  
  
 _Michael Jacobs._  
  
Harry reached the bathroom and turned on the water, splashing it on his face. He racked his brain, thinking hard.  
  
Had he ever met a Michael Jacobs? No, he had definitely never met the man. Maybe he had heard of him through someone, if Voldemort was as angry with the man as he thought, he likely had some connection to the Order.  
  
Deciding he had never heard of or met Michael Jacobs, he went back to his room as quietly as possible. Careful to make no noise, as he was in no mood for one of Uncle Vernon's rants, Harry changed his sweat drenched shirt and tried to get back to sleep. No sooner had he lay down, he was back on his feet, pacing his room.  
  
This had become common practice with him, as he tried to work off his excess energy, seeing as Dumbledore had all but forbidden him from leaving his Aunt and Uncle's house, considering the events at the Ministry a month ago. Or at least, that was what he told himself.  
  
The physical need of a sixteen year old boy to leave his home more often than he could sneak out was certainly part of it, but the truth was that Harry was not sleeping much these days by choice.  
  
His dreams were haunted by yelling, screaming, and flashes of green light. Often they were accompanied by his parents' and godfather's faces, smiling peacefully at him. But Harry hoped that soon he would be able to put it all out of his mind.  
  
According to one of Ron's letters, Mrs. Weasley had spoken to Dumbledore, and after a day of consideration that seemed more like a year to Harry, she had convinced him to allow Harry to spend the rest of the summer at the Burrow.  
  
Ron and his father had asked if it was acceptable for them to arrive by Floo Powder the next day at twelve o' clock to escort him to their home. Harry had quickly written back, requesting eight in the morning instead. It was as if Christmas had come early for Harry, leaving the his uncle and his constant threats of throwing him out on the street, where a "freak" like him belonged, in order to spend a month with his best friend and favorite family.  
  
After pacing for a good fifteen minutes, Harry lay back down on his bed and eventually fell back asleep.  
  
He awoke the next morning to the usual shout of "Boy, get yourself down here NOW!"  
  
He wearily got out of bed, stretched, put on his glasses, changed his clothes, and headed down the stairs. Ignoring the tone and volume of the demand, the uneducated observer might guess that Harry's uncle was simply concerned Harry might miss breakfast if he slept in any later; but anyone who truly knew them knew that Harry's lack of food was something Uncle Vernon had worked towards for the past sixteen years.  
  
No, over the years Harry had come to the conclusion his uncle simply felt he needed more time to torture Harry throughout the day. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he found his uncle standing in the hallway connected to the living room, looking livid.  
  
Having experience with this look, and deciding it would be easier to duck from a distance, he retreated a few steps back up the stairs before composing his face into an innocent smile saying, "Is something wrong? Probably nothing I could help with seeing as how I'm such a waste of space, I know, but what's going on down here?"  
  
"You know bloody well what's wrong, boy!" Harry simply looked confused, honestly trying to work out how he could have angered his uncle this badly before he was even awake.  
  
"Look!" Vernon snarled, pointing to the clock on the wall. At the exact same moment Harry heard a yelled " _Expelliarmus_!" from the kitchen. His eyes flashed to the clock that read eight-fifteen in the morning at the same moment Uncle Vernon gave a roar and ran towards the kitchen. His concern for the Weasleys overtaking his desire to laugh, he took off towards the kitchen too.  
  
Harry hadn't meant to sleep in, of course, but with everything on his mind and the marginal amounts of sleep he had been getting recently, his body had simply shut down for a few more hours than he intended. He hoped Ron's father would forgive that rudeness, but he doubted the Dursleys would.  
  
As he reached the kitchen, he saw a most peculiar scene. His aunt and nephew were cowering in a corner, holding each other apparently for fear of death. His uncle was standing with his back up against the wall, apparently having changed his mind about murdering the Weasleys.  
  
On the other side of the kitchen, Ron Weasley was laughing hysterically at the looks on his Petunia and Dudley's faces, while Mr. Weasley was standing with a stern look on his face, his wand pointed at Uncle Vernon, his other hand clutching a frying pan which had apparently just vacated Aunt Petunia's hand.  
  
Everyone seemed to realize Harry had entered the room at the same time, for his ears were full of some of the loudest shouting he had ever heard.  
  
"Boy, call off these Goddamn psychos NOW!"  
  
"Harry, mate, how have you been?"  
  
"Um, Harry, I think it's time to go!"  
  
"So many freaks in our house!"  
  
"What do mean, freaks?!"  
  
Harry looked at Mr. Weasley hopelessly.  
  
"My stuff is already packed and upstairs, I'll just, uh, go get it."  
  
Mr. Weasley shook his head. "No, no Ill just summon it down here." he said as he waved his wand in a jerking motion and said " _Accio Trunk"_.  
  
Harry knew Mr. Weasley and knew he was being helpful, but he also couldn't suppress the thought that whether or not the Dursleys were cowering from him, he did not want to be left alone with them.  
  
Harry's trunk came floating down the steps as Mr. Weasley backed away, still with his wand out. He turned to face Harry, smiling despite his less than warm welcome.  
  
"Well, shall we get going then, Harry?" asked Mr. Weasley, obviously eager to leave his Uncle's presence.  
  
"Yes, we might as we- MR. WEASLEY LOOK OUT!" Harry yelled, for Uncle Vernon had seized his opportunity while Mr. Weasley and Ron had their backs to him.  
  
Aunt Petunia must have been chopping something when the Weasleys had arrived, for uncle Vernon had seized a kitchen knife off the floor and hurled it at Mr. Weasley's back. He ducked just in time for the blade to whiz over him.  
  
Ron started to draw his wand, but Mr. Weasley yelled "No, Ron not now!" He jumped up, grabbed Harry by the arm, motioned for Ron to follow, ducked down to avoid another knife the sailed right by Harry, and pushed Harry into the still green fire in the living room yelling "The Burrow!" as he did. As Harry's world began to spin, got a last look at his Uncle's house and of Ron throwing himself into the fire behind them. Then as suddenly as the rotation had begun it stopped and Harry hit the ground hard.  
  
Looking up, Harry realized he was in the Weasley's living room. Ron and Mr. Weasley joined him a second later, tumbling out of the fireplace one after the other.  
  
Mr. Weasley stood up and brushed himself off. "Really, throwing knives at my back, how rude!" he said. "Don't they know I  _work_ with Muggles?"  
  
"I…I wonder why they didn't wake me? They knew you were coming," Harry asked, mostly himself. But then he answered his own question. "Just repressed it, I guess."  
  
Ron also attempted to get the soot of his robes, though with little success. "Dad, you really should have let me hit them with at least one good hex, maybe a really powerful Stunner, one that would leave a mark. No offense" he added to Harry after seeing the look on his father's face.  
  
"Now Ron," he began disapprovingly, the Muggles just don't-" But Mr. Weasleys defense of his relatives was cut short by Harry.  
  
"No Mr. Weasley, Ron just said exactly what I've been thinking since I was eleven," Harry said, shaking his head. "I had always hoped that eventually we might be able to get along, have some kind of relationship. But now I see there's no chance for anything like that."  
  
"Harry…" Mr. Weasley began.  
  
"No" he said firmly, "they… they really are bad people. They just tried to kill you!" Harry took a deep breath, wishing what he was saying wasn't true. "Look, it doesn't matter anymore; I don't ever have to go back there again. Hedwig was out hunting last night, she knows to come here when she's done."  
  
Ron looked sadly at his friend, and Mr. Weasley opened his mouth to say something, but before he could there was a loud bang overhead and a section of the ceiling fell through in a cloud of smoke and debris.  
  
Immediately after, he heard two "Damns" from the pile of wreckage, followed by two loud cracks. The next thing he knew, Mrs. Weasley threw open the door to the kitchen.  
  
"Fred and George Weasley, I am going to kill you!"


	5. Chapter 5: Bellatrix at the Burrow

“I mean  _really_! How those two are so irresponsible is beyond me! How they ended up like this I have no idea!” 

Harry, Ron, and Mr. Weasley were all sitting in chairs around the Weasley’s living room, all pressed up against the back of their chairs. Mrs. Weasley had been going on like this for a good ten minutes and no one was foolish enough to try to remind her that she was angry at Fred and George, not those present. 

Then, after another five minutes (during which Mrs. Weasley had not repeated the same threat twice) she stopped to take a deep breath. Mr. Weasley glanced around at Ron and Harry, then suggested timidly, “Um… Molly dear, don’t you think that you might want to say this to Fred and George?” 

“Oh I will!” she snarled. 

And with that she stormed into the kitchen, slamming the door behind her. Harry and both Weasleys remained quite still for a moment, afraid the slightest noise might bring Mrs. Weasley flying back into the room. Ron glanced at the door, then turned to Harry. “Hey Harry, let’s go upstairs.” He said. “There’s something cool I want to show you.” Harry agreed and they quickly ascended the stairs to the upstairs of the Burrow, leaving Mr. Weasley to find his own way of escape. 

They reached the second floor and turned down a hallway passing several doors Harry knew led to Ron’s brothers’ and sister’s rooms. They reached Ron’s door at the end of the hall and went in. Hermione and Ginny were sitting on Harry and Ron’s beds talking happily to each other. 

“Hermione?” Harry said, surprised. He walked over to sit down next to Ginny. “I didn’t know you were going to be here. So this is the cool thing you were talking about?” he asked Ron. 

“No way,” he said from the doorway “This is much cooler than Hermione,” he said, ducking the book she threw at him. He walked over to a closet on the other side of the room and began rummaging through it.  
   
“So how come you two didn’t come down to see me?” Harry asked them. “You must have heard us come in.” 

“Oh, well we were going to, but then we heard Fred and George and figured it was safer to stay here” said Ginny, shrugging. 

“You weren’t wrong” came Ron’s voice from inside the closet “Mum seriously lost it, it was scary.” 

“Well you can’t blame her can you? They really could have done some serious damage,” Hermione said fairly. Harry smiled at the thought that caving in the roof didn’t fall under “serious” damage for the twins, while Ron angry voice spoke again from his closet. 

“Hey lay off them all right? Never thought I’d, say it but they’re actually all right.” 

Ginny rolled her eyes and said “Ron’s fallen in love with Fred and George since they got him a new –” 

“Found it!” Ron called, emerging from the closet and holding something long and thin. As he walked over to the beds and flung himself down next to Hermione, Harry saw that he was holding a broomstick. “Take a look Harry!” he said enthusiastically, holding it out for him. Harry took it from him and examined it. He had never seen a broom like this before, nor had he ever seen something of Ron’s that looked so new. 

“Fred and George gave it to me!” he told him happily, watching Harry turn it over in his hands. 

“Nice one” Harry said, giving it back. “What is it? I’ve never seen one before.” 

“It’s an Icarus Three!” he said excitedly. “Newest broom on the market, fastest too,” he added proudly. “I always thought those two were gits but hey, guess I was wrong!” Ron was practically bouncing on the bed.

“Well then,” said Harry, standing up “let’s go.” Ginny rolled her eyes again, but Hermione looked at him in confusion. 

“Go? Where?”

“To try this thing out” Harry said, being painfully reminded of Hermione’s lack of interest in Quidditch and brooms in general. “Coming?” he added as he began to leave. Ron was already out the door and Harry heard him running down the stairs. 

“Yes, I suppose so” said Ginny. “Honestly I’ve been wanting to have a ride on it myself…” she admitted. Hermione got to her feet resignedly and the three of them headed down the stairs and out the back door as quietly as possible, failing to notice Mrs. Weasley’s note saying that she and Mr. Weasley had left to pick up a few things from Diagon Alley.

Harry turned the knob and held it open for the other two. Ginny smiled. “You’ve become a gentlemen?” she asked as she followed Hermione out. Harry returned her smile awkwardly. The compliment felt good in Harry’s ears, and his heart. It was only when Ginny said his name that he realized he had been standing in the doorway, still holding it open for far too long.  
   
“Where’s Ron?” he asked quickly, seeing the look on her face and hoping to change the subject. 

“I don’t know,” Hermione said wearily, “probably halfway to London by now. That thing really is fas –” but she was cut off as Ron came speeding down from out of the sun, missing Hermione by inches as he yelled with delight. Harry and Ginny were both roaring with laughter as they each offered her a hand, and Ron came to a skidding stop behind them. 

“My turn, out of the way Harry!” Ginny said, forgetting Hermione and almost knocking Harry down in her rush to get to Ron. 

“Sorry Hermione,” Harry said apologetically as she brushed herself off, “but it really was rather funny.” She said nothing but glowered towards Ginny, who had finally succeeded in convincing Ron to let her on, though he looked sulky and resentful. 

Harry hurried over to them to escape Hermione’s presence just in time to catch Ginny’s parting words of “– and you know I’ll do it too,” as she kicked off and soared into the air. 

“I don’t believe her” Ron muttered “threatened to shove the broom right up my— hey Hermione!” he said cheerily, with a hopeful smile. “Sorry about that, couldn’t resist…” Hermione continued to stare at him coldly, then Harry noticed a faint crease between her eyebrows. She pulled out her wand and pointed it directly at Ron. 

“Hey!” he said, backing up a little “I said I was sorry. It was just a jo—” But then he covered his face with his hands and arms as a jet of red light shot from Hermione’s wand. Harry pulled out his own wand ready to repair whatever damage the spell would do, but there was no need. 

Hermione’s Stunner missed Ron’s ear by one or two inches, then collided with the jet of green light less than a foot behind Ron. Time seemed to slow down as Harry spun around, leveled his wand, and saw the six masked Death Eaters sprinting towards them firing spells as they went. He yelled “ _Protego_ ” at the top of his voice, and the shield formed just in time to block three more spells. 

Harry’s shield was powerful enough to hold the Death Eaters long enough for the Trio to pick themselves up and point their wands at a different Death Eater, who did the same form the opposite side of the shield. A woman who was at the front of the group stepped forward and pulled off her mask, smiling evilly at them, her wand pointed straight at Harry’s face, less than a foot apart. 

“Well, well Potter, I thought we might find you here,” Bellatrix said gleefully. “You should really have picked a better hiding spot. Perhaps one with more trustworthy people, at least."

 He heard Ron make a quiet noise and knew what it must mean. One of the Weasleys must have been captured and forced to reveal the location. 

“What have you done with my brother?” Ron’s voice demanded from beside him. But he didn’t sound like Ron. His voice was hard and filled with an odd mixture of both the most fear and the most hate he had ever heard in his friend’s voice. 

“Oh don’t worry, little boy, your traitor brother will recover, it didn’t take long to break him after all…” she said, passion heavy on her lips. “Are you  _that_  stupid?” she added scornfully as Ron’s Stunner bounced off Harry’s shield. Several Death Eaters chuckled, then roared with laughter as the spell bounced back and hit Ron squarely in the chest, knocking him out. 

“NO!” Hermione screamed, rushing to kneel next to Ron, to increased laughter from the Death Eaters. 

Harry had no idea what to do. There was no cover anywhere, and none of them could Apparate yet. Ron was unconscious and he and Hermione stood no chance against six Death Eaters. The sudden stress drew much of his magic away;  his shield began to flicker as he struggled to maintain it. His only hope was that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley or Ginny would not notice the commotion and get themselves involved.  
   
As if on cue and to his horror Ginny swooped down on the group shooting spells at the Death Eaters, Stunning one. She shot upwards again, dodging several curses, and dove again this time managing to hit another. Harry heard a yell of terror as a spell that looked like a red whip flew from the tip of Bellatrix’s wand wrapped around Ginny, flinging her to the ground. Harry’s fears were not helped by the fact that she had been at least six or seven feet in the air when she fell. 

Ginny appeared to be as unconscious as her brother. Two Death Eaters grabbed her under her armpits and hoisted her up. One of the others pointed his wand at her and said  _"Eneverate_ ". Her eyelids fluttered as she let out a groan of pain.

Now,” said Bellatrix, turning back to Harry “You have two options, stay behind that wall and watch while we torture your friend, or come out and surrender yourself. Chose quickly.” 

Harry didn’t have to think. He turned his back to the Death Eaters and pointed his wand towards where Hermione was attempting to revive Ron and muttered  _Protego_  again. A new shield popped up in between Harry and his friends, and at the same time the one between him and the Bellatrix disappeared. He had been in a similar situation only a month before, and this time he would make sure none of his friends were hurt. 

He heard a triumphant cackle, then felt his wand leave his hand. He turned to face the Death Eaters, fighting to remain calm. “Okay there,” he said, his voice higher than he expected it to be, “I’m yours. Now let Ginny and the others go.” There was a pleading tone in his voice. 

“Fine,” Bellatrix shrugged, nodding to the two men holding Ginny “take her.” They threw Ginny forcibly from them and she cried in pain as she hit the ground. Harry wasn’t aware of running forward, or of Hermione screaming his name, and was only vaguely aware of the curse hitting him; he only knew he was calling her name. 

He reached her and collapsed at her side, writhing in pain as the Cruciatus Curse operated on him. Through a haze of pain he saw Ginny’s eyes were closed and a small part of him felt grateful she was out - he didn’t want her to see this. Then the pain lifted as did he when the same two who grabbed Ginny lifted him in the same way. 

“Well then,” Bellatrix smirked, “the Dark Lord awaits you Potter. And please, do keep that look of fear it’s very becoming...” she laughed. 

“What should we do with the other three?” grunted one of the other Death Eaters, gesturing to Ginny and the other two. 

“I don’t care, kill them if you want,” Bellatrix said dismissively. “We already have Potter, he is all I care about, do what you want with the other three, they’re in no condition to put up much of a fight.” 

“If you’re talking about us” said a girl’s voice behind Harry and the seven remaining Death Eaters, “I’m afraid you’re  _very_  mistaken.” 

Anger washed across Bellatrix’s face and the Death Eaters holding him dropped him and spun around, plunging their hands into their robes, only to be hit by two jets of yellow light which sent them spiraling into the shield Harry had conjured. They bounced off the shield and fell to the ground, out cold. 

Harry, who had fell to his knees, lifted his head and saw three people standing about twenty feet away from the Death Eaters. The person on the left had sand colored hair and Harry thought he could see him smiling slightly. The girl who had spoken was on the right. She had very dark hair that fell to her shoulders and was wearing an expression of complete concentration.  
   
Both had their wands pointed into the group of Death Eaters and Harry knew it must have been them who cursed the two Death Eaters because unlike the first two, the man in the middle had not even drawn his wand. He looked angry, unlike the others, and spoke to his friend while staring straight at Bellatrix. “Don't let your guard down for anything,” he said through his teeth. “She’s more dangerous than you know.”

The man next to him stepped forward too, shrugging indifferently. “No bets this time then?” 

“Not this time Jeff,” Michael answered, though he had still not drawn his wand. “Unless Sarah decides she wants to take you on?” he added, a small smirk flashing through his hard look. 

“Not today,” she said, though she sounded tempted. “I know what they’re capable of.”

“Suit yourself,” Michael said shortly. “All right!” he called loudly to the Death Eaters, all of whom seemed rooted to the spot where they stood. “I’m supposed to give you some kind of warning that we’re going to arrest you, but –” 

“Going to arrest us are you?” yelled one of the Death Eaters, finally finding his voice. 

“Well, yes I am. Unless of course you’re stupid enough to fight…I think we all know how that’s going to end,” he added, and in the same second three spells, two of them green, flew towards the three teens. Jeff and Sarah deflected them, while Michael drew out his own wand and disappeared in a plume of flames, appearing next to Harry and Ginny and behind the Death Eaters.

  
   
  


  
Jeff and Sarah each engaged a Death Eater, Sarah aggressively and rapidly moving towards the man while Jeff held his ground and fired a continuous barrage of large, powerful curses. This left Michael to deal with Bellatrix and the final male.

  
   
  


 

  
   
  


He had experience fighting multiple opponents at once, but was having a hard time matching both of them. He instinctively knew he should try and eliminate the man first, as he was sure to be an easier out than Bellatrix, but as his thinking brain caught up to his unconscious actions, he realized almost every spell he shot was meant for Lestrange.

  
   
  


 

  
   
  


His “ _Impedimenta_!” was met by Bellatrix’s streaking yellow spell and the ensuing explosion forced him to raise his arms momentarily to cover his eyes, allowing the man to slip under his guard.

  
   
  


 

  
   
  


“ _Avada_ –”

  
   
  


 

  
   
  


 Harry snatched up his wand and acted; his Stunner dropped the male Death Eater seconds before he could fell Michael. Jeff and Sarah were finishing their duels around the same time, both victorious, Sarah’s leg bleeding a little.

  
   
  


 

  
   
  


Giving Harry nothing more than a shift of the eyes he hoped communicated his gratitude, Michael turned on Bellatrix in full now. She laughed at his opening Killing Curse, deflecting up skywards with one of her own. That only infuriated Michael further and he redoubled his attack, putting his full arm strength into swinging his wand, throwing curse after curse at her. Bella seemed less and less amused after every exchange, and her sweat covered face told Michael all he needed to know – he was winning. As Harry recovered himself, wand in hand, and Jeff and Sarah moved in, Bellatrix seemed to realize she was beaten.

  
   
  


 

  
   
  


Surrounded, Bellatrix did nothing more than smile wickedly at Michael; it was as if the other three no longer existed. They locked eyes for a moment, wands raised to each other and suddenly Michael knew exactly what she was about to do.

  
   
  


 

  
   
  


“Eyes!” he shouted as Bellatrix raised her wand, shrieking a brilliant  _Lumos_  spell. Light exploded from her wand, again blinding everyone present. Michael's first instinct was to fire straight ahead despite this, but the chances of her already moving put Jeff and Sarah into to much danger.

  
   
  


 

  
   
  


The light only burned for two or three seconds, but by the time it was gone, Bellatrix was running blindly towards the boundaries of the property, towards the edge of the wards that now trapped her. Eyes still watering and vision blurred, Michael fired a Stunner in her general direction, missing only by inches.

  
   
  


 

  
   
  


Bellatrix turned quickly and shot a retaliatory curse at Michael, now holding her ground. “You think you’ve won here?” she screeched at him. Michael, Jeff, and Sarah advanced slowly on her while Harry stayed protectively near Ginny. Michael wanted very badly to take her on the spot, but knew a sudden attack would cause her to Disapparate before they could stop her, as she was now outside the wards.

  
   
  


 

  
   
  


“Easy…” Jeff warned his friend quietly.

  
   
  


 

  
   
  


“You might have a better chance against me with some real help,” she taunted Michael. “Who are these two? New fodder for me? They don't look up to par with Stetnas….”

  
   
  


 

  
   
  


“Dammit!” Sarah hissed as Michael and Bella fired simultaneous spells. Michael threw himself to the ground to avoid her Killing Curse, but Bellatrix simply vanished out of the line of Michael's blue wave of magic.

  
   
  


 

  
   
  


Michael had a very unpleasant look on his face as he got back up and dusted himself off. “Stupid bitch…” he muttered.

  
   
  


 

  
   
  


“We got most of them,” Sarah told him. She looked a little awkward as she addressed her friend.

  
   
  


 

  
   
  


“Yeah…but none of them are the most evil Witch to wave a wand,” Michael said irritably. He sighed, shook his head, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Right…well anyway…professionalism….”

Michael pocketed his wand and wandered back over towards Harry and Ginny, sighing loudly.

“You all right?” he asked. “That was a pretty nasty curse you took,” he added grimly, as the other two rushed up to him. 

“I’m fine,” Harry told him, before coughing. “But Ginny’s hurt pretty badly.” Jeff wandered off towards Ron and Hermione, while Sarah crouched down next to Harry and Ginny. 

“Here let’s see what we can do,” she said, sounding tired. She waved her wand up and down Ginny’s body, muttering to herself. 

“Impressive aim,” Michael told Harry, grinning despite himself. “I appreciate the save, although it was supposed to be the other way around. We  _almost_ got Lestrange. But the rest are out. Don’t worry about your friend,” Michael said, offering Harry a hand in greeting. “Sarah’s got a lot of experience Healing, thanks to me. She's a big part of the reason I’m still alive.” 

“Actually, Michael” she said distractedly, “I’m the only reason you’ll still alive. “Remember Beijing?” she added. 

“Yeah, yeah I remember, broken leg, arm, and collarbone right?” he said, smiling reminiscently as Harry shook his hand uncertainly, but firmly. “But how is she?” he added, looking down at Ginny and sounding concerned. 

“She’ll be fine. Might need a while in Mungos, but nothing they won’t be able to fix,” Sarah said soothingly, more to Harry than Michael. “You two go check on those two,” she added, now pointing her wand at Ginny’s ribs and muttering a quiet spell.

“Right,” Michael nodded. “C’mon.” He started forward and gestured for Harry to follow. 

Harry hastened his walk to catch up with Michael. “Who the hell are you people?” he finally got out. Michael laughed. 

“We get that question a lot,” he said. “Short version is we’re friends of the Order. They reached Jeff, who was smiling slightly as Hermione stared around at them all, and Ron, who was now sitting upright, was shaking his head groggily. 

“Harry!” they said at the same time as soon as he reached them. Hermione flung herself into a tight embrace. 

“You – you almost died!” She seemed to be in shock. “Harry, we didn’t – Harry!” she cried. 

 

Not knowing what to do, he patted her on the back a little while looking at Ron who gazed up at Harry with more pain on his face than Harry had ever seen. 

“Mate,” he croaked “I’m sorry. I – I couldn’t help it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry said quickly. “Don’t,” he said again as Ron opened his mouth. “I promise, we’re going to find your brother."

“He's all right,” said Jeff, picking Ron up onto his feet. “We tracked Bellatrix to the area and knew it couldn’t be good. Some of our people found your brother. That’s how we knew to come here. They sent us to make sure you were all right."

“Hey, Potter,” Michael said, turning to Harry, who of course was used to people knowing his name. “Seen him yet?” he asked, looking around as though expecting to see someone he knew. 

Harry looked at him, confused. “Who are you talking about?” he asked. 

“Who am I talking about?” Michael repeated, stunned. Had no one told the poor Wizard? “Siri – ” 

But he was cut off as one of the Death Eaters who had been holding Harry had apparently woken up and lunged at Hermione, who fell down with the Death Eater on top of her. He leaned down, breathing heavily, and prepared to bite Hermione on the neck, only to be thrown no less than fifty yards from Hermione as Michael, Jeff, and Harry’s collective spells hit him. Harry looked at the defeated man in horror. “Greyback….”

Sarah and Jeff ran towards where the werewolf had fallen, wands still out. Meanwhile Michael walked over to Hermione and offered her a hand. She seemed shaken, but remarkably calm, given the circumstances. Michael smiled regretfully at her.  
   
“You know,” he said, pulling Hermione to her feet, “used to be if you wanted to eat a girl’s face, you had to buy her dinner first."


	6. Chapter 6: The Other Trio

_Early the next day_  
  
Ginny had been taken to St. Mungos immediately after her parents had returned and Binding Hexes had been placed on the defeated Death Eaters. It had done little to help Mrs. Weasley's worrying when she had gone in to see her daughter only to find her eldest son in the bed next to her. Bill was awake and sitting up, though wincing every time he moved.  
  
When they asked him about what Michael Jacobs had said (he and the other two had not gone to the Wizarding hospital, instead taking the captured Death Eaters to the Ministry) he just shook his head and said he didn't remember anything about a Michael Jacobs.  
  
"So I had just come home, because I hadn't been feeling good, so I took the day off," he was saying. "And there's a knock on my door. I got up to answer it but then someone blasted the door in and I guess knocked me out. Next thing I know, I'm lying here with you lot." He frowned at them.  
  
"You still haven't told me what Ginny's doing here though," he added, looking confused. Molly tried to hide her sob, but to no avail. The Cruciatus Curse could sometimes cause memory loss and…other mental problems.  
  
This was the third time he had asked that question.  
  
Harry only heard bits of Bill's story though. While the Weasleys and Hermione were grouped around Bill's bed, he was sitting in a chair next to Ginny's. She was talking quietly to him and had just gotten as far as asking Harry if he thought the girl who had healed her could do anything for Bill when she noticed he wasn't listening at all.  
  
His hand was on top of hers and he was staring down at her in a way that would have creeped her out if it was anyone else, apparently deep in thought. It then hit her that he hadn't said more than a few words since the attack.  
  
Instead he was dwelling on what Michael had said, as well as what had happened to Ginny. Harry knew he was about to say Sirius' name, but he couldn't make heads or tails of the question "Have you seen him yet?" He considered the idea that a body had been recovered after all, but there was something in Michael's tone and face that told him that wasn't it. Making a mental note to ask him about his godfather, along with a few other things, he turned his attention fully to the redhead lying in the bed beside him.  
  


* * *

  
  
Rufus Scrimgeour was sitting behind his heavy wood desk, staring intently at a memo from his Head Auror. He was just about to put the report down and start on another - again from the Auror department - when the door of his office swung open. Scowling, he put away his drawn wand and motioned for the man in the doorway to come inside. He did so, dragging something large and heavy in his right hand.  
  
"Good to see you too, Minister," Michael said as he carelessly kicked the polished door behind him closed. "Hope you don't mind if I brought a friend," he added as he threw his burden onto the floor in front of him.  
  
"I just thought" he went on, ignoring the Minister's look of outrage as he realized what was on his floor, "that the, what is it now, two?" he looked at Scrimgeour inquiringly, "the two Death Eaters who haven't managed to escape Azkaban yet might be getting a little lonely. So I brought them a friend. Jeff and Sarah are downstairs with a few other new playmates," he finished, prodding Greyback with his foot.  
  
Scrimgeour finally looked away from Greyback and back at Michael, who was now leaning easily on a wall, his hands in his pockets. "Jeff and Sarah…" he said slowly, "are they your people? Are they, what are you calling yourselves, STRIKE?" he asked in a very polite, very forced tone, his eyes narrowing.  
  
"Yes, they are" Michael said shortly. "And please Minister, don't attempt to have them detained. Their temperament towards the Ministry is similar to mine and if one of the Aurors tried to get too touchy-feely with them, especially Sarah, it wouldn't be pretty."  
  
Scrimgeour glared at him a moment and Michael continued to look at him impassively. He could tell he had angered Scrimgeour with his subtle threat, but both men also knew he was good for it.  
  
"And what about you Jacobs?" he asked quietly. "It's just you and me in here. What if I decided to arrest you for vigilantism? By the time your friends got here my people would have dealt with them…"  
  
To his surprise, Michael smiled. "I'd hate to make a mess in your new office, especially as I see you have a new carpet, I wonder how many taxpayer Galleons that was…? As for arresting me, I'm afraid you'll find that, right before he was sacked, dear old Fudge passed a law making STRIKE an officially unofficial Ministry task force.  
  
Apparently we're a sub department of Magical Games and Sports or something due to some bureaucracy. Anyway… Staffon wants to see you. Says it's time you two had a proper meeting"  
  
Scrimgeour looked even angrier than he did when Michael threatened him. "The Ministry of Magic does not negotiate with terrorists," he said forcefully.  
  
"Oh would you cut the crap?" Michael said impatiently, pushing himself off the wall. "Just agree to the damn meeting so I can get going. Call us whatever you like, the term I hear the most is heroes, but whatever, I don't care. Just say you'll meet with Staffon, alright?"  
  
Scrimgeour sighed; perhaps it was time to meet the man. "Fine, fine," he said wearily. "I'll have the bloody meeting. But you and me, Jacobs" his eyes glinted malevolently, "we have a lot to discuss first."  
  
"Sure do," Michael said turning for the door. "Just not right now. I'm a busy man, see?"  
  
"Now wait a minute here Jacobs!" he snarled, anger flaring up again, just as Michael was about to turn the doorknob. "You don't speak to me like that. I'm the Minister now!" he fumed.  
  
"And?"  
  
"And that means you show me the respect you never did when I was your boss! It's things like that that got you kicked out of the Aurors! You think that now that you're with  _them_  you're so important and you can talk to me how you like?"  
  
Michael turned from the door and the expression on Scrimgeour's face changed, though only slightly, at least much less than Michael's had. A cold anger filled it.  
  
It took a lot to make him this angry, and when he finally did reach that point, people stopped wondering how he ever held his own against Voldemort.  
  
"You listen to me Minister," he whispered. "You leave my friends out of this. We never asked for your help, nor have we ever interfered with the Aurors unless it was to save a life. Which I have already done today, by the way."  
  
Scrimgeour wasn't quick enough to hide his confusion and Michael noticed. "Your Auror guard did a good job letting a few friendly Death Eaters," he gestured again at Fenrir, "get at Potter. Now I know you don't give a rat's ass about him, but I really can't think of a better way to get yourself sacked than to let Harry Potter get killed a month into your term."  
  
He turned, then stopped again with his hand on the crystal knob. "And just to clarify, you were never my boss and I chose to leave. I think you remember why. Sorry another mutual friend of ours had to miss this fun little party. Bella had to leave at the last minute." And with that he stepped out the door, passed the receptionist without a word, and headed towards the atrium, intent on Flooing his way out as soon as possible.  
  


* * *

  
  
Six teens and two adults were squeezed into the Burrows sitting room. The adults looked worried, three of the teens who were sitting together looked curious, and the other three on the couch opposite the other three all had different expressions. Nobody was talking.  
  
Sarah, sitting in the middle of the couch, was looking around, taking in the room and the people in it while looking politely interested. Jeff, who was on her left, had a very unpleasant expression on and was staring at the floor as though hoping it would combust.  
  
Michael had his eyes closed, was sitting straight backed, and was rubbing the back of his neck. The three STRIKE agents were sitting in the living room of the Burrow along with the Trio and the elder two Weasleys.  
  
"So…" Michael spoke at last, putting his feet down and looking around. "Uh, nice place you've got," he said feebly. "Listen, I don't like ordering people around, especially in their own house," he addressed Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, "but I… we need to talk to these three," he nodded at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, "alone. I know today's been hard, but this is important."  
  
Mrs. Weasley looked like she was going to say no, but Arthur held up his hand. "Molly, I believe we can trust them." She opened her mouth but he pressed on "Look, dear, they've already saved how many of our children? We'll be in the next room if you need anything," he told the room at large. And they left, leaving the six teens to stare at each other.  
  
"Right," Michael said awkwardly. "Well I'm Michael Jacobs, this is Sarah Crystalake," he indicated the witch next to him, "And this is Jeff Allero." Jeff only grunted, still looking down. "Ignore him," Michael shrugged.  
  
"We shouldn't be here," Jeff said shortly. "Not like this. We should've been faster."  
  
Michael shook his head and looked down. He watched the floor a moment, then looked back up.  
  
Hermione looked at Harry and Ron before starting, "We never really got to thank you for what you did... I'm Herm -"  
  
"Hermione Granger, I know," Michael interrupted. "And you're welcome. So you're Ron Weasley, right?" Michael asked a very startled Ron. Ron and Hermione didn't have Harry's experience with people knowing their names.  
  
"I know about you all. We stay informed," he added to answer their questioning looks. "But never mind that now, we've got more important things to talk about…" he said as though steeling himself for something.  
  
"You're going to tell them?" Jeff asked. "Thought it was top secret."  
  
Sarah looked at him wearily. "That's the whole point of our mission, Jeff. Staffon wants them to know, so we're here to tell them," she said simply.  
  
"Sorry, I missed something," Ron said at last "But tell us what, exactly?" Michael noticed he glanced at Hermione as he said it and guessed she had habit of answering his questions. She only shrugged though, so Michael took a deep breath.  
  
"So what do you three know about the Slytherin Seven?"


	7. Chapter 7: The Slytherin Seven

Harry looked around at his friends questioningly. Ron made a face and shrugged, apparently he had never heard of the Slytherin Seven either. Hermione, however, was frowning at Michael, not sharing Harry and Ron’s look of confusion.   
  
“The Slytherin Seven,” she said seriously, “were a group of Dark Wizards, led by Salazar Slytherin, who were dedicated to the total elimination of Muggleborns from Wizarding society. They were known to use methods even worse than Voldemort’s. Slytherin formed the group shortly after his falling out with the rest of the founders. No one knows their combined body count before they vanished,” she finished darkly   
  
Michael raised his eyebrows, impressed. He hadn’t expected her information to be so accurate. “Well you’re partly right. But for starters, the Slytherin Seven wasn’t just a group, the name also refers to the seven powerful items created by the group. Damn scholars…made memorizing all this a lot harder. Also Salazar wasn’t the leader; he was only second in command.   
  
"Yeah, I know,” he added to the incredulous looks on their faces. “Its debated sometimes – mostly by people who forget about the Seven – if Slytherin was a Dark Wizard or not, but aside from Voldemort and Grindelwald, no one ever challenges his place as the most powerful. But as for the Seven, they were actually led by the current Dark Lord at the time, a man called Malos. No first name, Dark Wizards seem adverse to them for some reason. The group became known as the Slytherin Seven later in history because Salazar was their most memorable member. But of course they faded into obscurity over time, partially because of how long ago they lived, partially due to Slytherins playing down the whole group throughout history. Even they have shame sometimes, I guess,” Michael shrugged.  
  
“Who were the other five then?” asked Harry. “Besides from Slytherin and Malos.”   
  
Michael shook his head. “Well we only know four others, along with their rank. The name of the last member of what we’ll go ahead and call the Seven, if only for convenience, is lost to history.”   
  
“Go on then” Hermione urged. “Tell us about the ones you do know.”   
  
“All right, well, like I said their leader was Malos. Slytherin was second in command. In third place was Tiberius Malfoy, he was the main financial backer for the Seven’s agenda.”   
  
At this point Harry muttered “Some things never change…” Hermione gave him a look, but Michael smiled bitterly.   
  
“Looks like you have the same opinion of the distinguished Malfoy clan as we do…but where was I? Oh yeah,” he continued “Erer Darothil was the fourth strongest of them, there’s rumors he murdered Helga Hufflepuff, but who knows? He was just a little more powerful than Aerin Bael, supposedly the most skilled swordsman of the era. He was fifth in order, magically at least. Number six was Syrene Lestrange; I know you’ve met two of her decedents too. There’s some speculation she was the one who seduced Salazar and led him to the Dark side, but it doesn’t matter now, right?”   
  
“And nobody knows who last member was?” Harry asked. “Do you have any ideas?”   
  
“Well people have some guesses,” Sarah replied uncertainly “But not many know about the group at all…” She shook her head. “They’ve been overshadowed by more recent villains like Voldemort.”   
  
Jeff finally spoke. “If they only knew half of it,” he muttered. “If they only knew what they had really done…”   
  
That seemed to jar Harry’s memory. “You said the Seven wasn’t a group,” he told Michael, who nodded. “You said it was something they made, tell us about that.” Michael was glad Harry and the others seemed to be taking this seriously, but then, he supposed he could hardly have found someone this information could be more relevant to, at least if the rumors of a prophecy were true.   
  
Michael waved a hand at Sarah, asking her to take over. She sighed and then picked up the story. “The legend is that each of the Seven created an item of incredible power, which they used to further their reign of terror. Now let’s see…” She looked down at her hands. “No one knows who number seven was or what he made.”  
   
She extended a finger. “But we know Lestrange made the Robe of Six,” she extended another finger. “Bael forged the Sword of Five, Darothil had Ring of Four” she paused and looked at the other two. “What’s after that?” she asked. “The one Malfoy had?”   
  
“That was the Mask of Three” Jeff told her. “Really the most dangerous of all, if you ask me…and Slytherin wore the Belt of Two. And then nobody knows what Malos had, right?” he asked the other two, who nodded.   
  
“So there you have it” Michael said, leaning back into the couch. “The Slytherin Seven”   
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other. Harry decided to voice the one question he knew they were all thinking.   
  
“Why exactly are you telling us all this?”   
  
Michael sat back up, mildly surprised at his oversight. “Oh, didn’t I tell you the best part?” He grinned regretfully at them. “Apparently each of these items can only be destroyed by a descendent of the one who made it.”   
  
Michael saw each persons’ face change and knew they had an idea of what he wanted from them. Hermione fidgeted about for a moment, running her thumbs up and down the inside of her palms, then the question burst through her façade.   
  
“You believe Ron or Harry is descended from one of the Seven?” she asked quickly. Ron and Harry shared a look. Michael had read enough to know Harry Potter had once been accused of being descended from Salazar Slytherin and probably hoped he wasn’t about to be again.   
  
“Well yes, we do” Michael admitted. “But first, I wonder why you assume it’s not   
you?”   
  
“Well,” Hermione said uncertainly, “because I’m Muggleborn. It’s obvious all of the Seven were Wizards, so I can’t be descended from them.”   
  
Michael considered at her for a moment. “You’re right, you’re not the one we came looking for, and you have no connection to the Seven. But don’t assume you can’t do anything to help because of that…we have something in common, you know, both Muggleborns. That’s about it though. My hair only gets that bushy when I go a few weeks without a haircut and Sarah was top of our class. I think I fell somewhere around twenty-second.”   
  
“In a class of twenty people” Jeff smirked. “Doesn’t matter anyway, you're a damn dropout.”  
  
Michael yawned. “Yes, because I'm sure you two learned so much more in your last year of school than I did over here locking wands with Death Eaters. Thanks for making me look good.”  
  
“Really, you’re Muggleborn?” Hermione asked. Michael nodded. “I only ask because when I was a child, my parents sometimes saw me accidently doing magic and they didn’t know what to think. I’m fairly sure they just told themselves they were tired or some other rubbish. But you seem…well, very magical, I wonder how they explained that. What?” she finished in confusion as both Sarah and Jeff reacted. Jeff suddenly looked over and around, examining every inch of the Weasleys’ home while Sarah scuffed the ground with her feet a few times.   
  
Michael smiled at his friends reactions. “I wouldn’t know,” he said. “They both died when I was a kid, about a year old.”   
  
Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth. “Oh! I didn’t….I’m sor-” but Michael interrupted her.   
  
“Don’t be sorry” he told her steadily. “Unless you have a time turner and some Death Eater robes lying around, you didn’t kill them.”   
  
“They were killed by Death Eaters?” Harry asked. Michael knew by way of Harry’s preceding reputation this was a tragedy held in common.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Do you know who killed them?” Ron asked quietly. “Or why? The Death Eaters mostly stayed in the UK, or at least that’s what Dad always said. I don't know why they'd make a trip to America just to kill some Muggles.”  
  
Hermione kicked him, but Michael inclined his head towards Ron.  
  
“No, actually, Ron, you have a point,” he said seriously. “I didn’t think about it much as a kid, but ever since I joined STRIKE I've been wondering that too…why come so far just to kill Muggles? Trying to scare the American government? I don't think so, because we mainly stayed out of the first war since Voldemort left us alone. In fact, when the Department of Secrecy did determine they were Death Eater killings, they finally sent some help to the Aurors. Really…killing my parents stirred up a lot of retaliatory feelings in the Wizarding world back then. Voldemort must’ve had a reason – whatever else he is, he isn’t stupid. I like the way you think. Strategic minds are always a bonus.” He briefly smiled at Ron, but it faded soon. “And I still don’t know the name of the one who did it. I'm not sure if I want to know that name, either.”   
  
“Don’t you want revenge?” Harry asked quietly.   
  
“Of course I do” Michael said, scowling. “But the thing is, I probably already have it. I’ve put a lot of Death Eaters in sixty miles from civilization in Azkaban and a few others six feet under it, so I’ve possibly already avenged them, I just don’t know for sure. But if I did know who did it…well, hell, I'm not really sure what I’d do.”   
  
Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione. Both looked equally startled by the information he had just divulged. “So you’ve…” Harry began, but Michael knew what was coming and cut him off.   
  
“Yes I’ve killed people before. And no – it’s not as easy as it seems. But how did we get on my life story anyway?” he said, suddenly agitated. This was supposed to be a briefing session about the Seven, not him.  
  
“I start telling Ron he could destroy one of the Seven, and we ended up talking about my parents. Hell, I guess that’s why my job is to fight, not negotiate. So back to Weasley. As you can imagine, not many of the surnames are still around, they were way too selective about who they married. The Malfoy and Lestrange names are still around, though that doesn’t help much considering what we need them for. And no one knows who the last member was or Lord Malos’ real name. There are however,” he looked pointedly at Ron, “still descendents of Darothril and Bael alive, though they have different names nowadays.”   
  
He smiled at Ron, who looked at him blankly. “Me?” he asked. “You think I’m descended from one of these Seven?” he asked weakly.   
  
“Yeah, looks that way” Michael sighed. “Some of our brightest did some digging and found out that through some cousin-lovin’ and other…things that were common back then…that the Weasley clan is the most direct descendents left of Erer Darothril, fourth in command of the Seven and creator of the Ring of Four. Err…sorry.”   
  
Before Ron could do anything more than open his mouth even wider, Hermione quickly directed another question at Michael. “You said that the Slytherin Seven were powerful Dark objects, but you haven’t told us what exactly they did.”   
  
“Do,” Michael corrected her quietly.   
  
“Hmm?”   
  
“What they do,” he repeated. “Of the five objects we are aware of three still definitely exist. The Sword of Five was destroyed in Russia and I tricked Bellatrix Lestrange into destroying the Robe of Six a few weeks ago. I’ve still got marks from that….” He smiled mischievously. “But we know that Belt of Two, Mask of Three, and Ring of Four are all intact, thanks to a little digging I did a few nights ago.  
  
“Now then, ‘What do they do?’ you ask. I’ll start with the Robe Lestrange created, also known as the Spirit Robe. When worn, the Robe would for all intents and purposes, give the wearer all the benefits of being a ghost.”   
  
“All the benefits?” Harry repeated. “What do you mean?”   
  
“All the fun stuff ghosts can do that we can’t. Like walking through walls for example. It also had a translucent quality that could be used to make the wearer virtually invisible. Very useful for, say, spying on enemy war rooms.”   
  
“Or bedrooms…” Sarah muttered, throwing Jeff a very dirty look. Jeff threw up his hands in a poor attempt at an innocent gesture.  
   
“You say this like you know from experience.” Hermione said quickly. “And that you fooled Bellatrix into ruining the Robe.”   
  
“Yeah, yeah I did” Michael said, who was looking at Sarah and smiling slightly. “I wore it once and got her to attack me, it wasn’t exactly hard. Anyway, she shot the Avada at me and it hit me square in the chest. The Robe sort of disintegrated and I hit the floor thanking God all our information on the Robe was right.”   
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione all shared a look.   
  
“Hold on a minute...” Hermione said slowly. “You said that Bellatrix destroyed the Robe of Six right? But she only married a Lestrange, she wasn’t born one. So the connection passes through marriage?”   
  
“Yep, that’s what it looks like,” Michael confirmed. “Marriage is a very serious and powerful bond, especially Wizarding marriages. It’s just like an Unbreakable Vow. Magic recognizes bonds like that, it’s why husbands and wives can use each other’s wands with no issues. So, for instance, if you and Ron ever got married, then you’d be able to destroy the Ring too.”   
  
Both Ron and Hermione turned a deep pink and avoided each other’s gaze for a while. Michael took no notice and carried on.   
  
“Right, well after that was the Sword of Five, which as I said, we saw destroyed in Russia. The Sword heightened all the instincts of its user to near superhuman levels. Including the killer instinct,” he added with a wink. “Not a very interesting story, really. Just found out some poor village kid was the last living descendent of Bael.   
  
"Well it wasn’t very hard to convince him what to do. Didn’t bother explaining everything,” he added at Hermione’s questioning look. “The kid was only about ten, probably wouldn’t have understood half of it. Anyway we put a bag of gold in one of his hands and the Sword in the other and watched him throw it into a furnace. After that, it was gone,” he finished simply.   
  
“What about this Ring?” Ron asked. “The one you said that I could destroy. What does that one do?”   
  
“Well Darothril was always a greedy bastard. They say he nearly murdered Malfoy on a few occasions, out of jealousy. But he was also smart. When someone wears the Ring of Four everything they touch becomes gold. I think Muggles have a story about it, somehow attributed to some king….” He smiled at the look on Ron’s face, then frowned slightly as he looked closer.   
  
“I know what you’re thinking, that doesn’t sound too bad right, just turning stuff to gold. Well here’s the thing. It doesn’t just turn anything into gold, it can turn  _anyone_  into gold. Darothril used it as a weapon too. It basically gave him the ability to instantly kill anyone he could put his hands on.”   
  
Hermione stared at him. “You mean if you have the Ring on,” she asked, her eyes wide, “just by touching a person…?”   
  
“Yeah,” Michael solemnly, “they’re gone. I’m glad you understand the danger posed by such an item.” He glanced again at Ron, who was slightly pale, then continued.   
  
“So that leaves the Belt of Two and the Mask of Three, Slytherin and Malfoy’s crowing achievements. Basically the Mask allows the person wearing it total persuasive power. Almost mind control, and it’s absolute, not like the Imperius Curse, which can be fought. If the person wearing the Mask of Three tells you to do something, you do it, no questions asked. The only catch is that it can only work on one person at a time, but I agree with Jeff, it’s still probably the most dangerous.   
  
"When you face someone using the Belt of Four, it allows them to absorb most minor and moderate curses and use their energy to increase the user’s own power. From the research STRIKE has done, it appears that the Belt can take a few hits from one of the Unforgivables before having to cool down for a while, how long I don’t know.”   
  
Hermione looked thoughtful. “From what you’re saying though, about the Belt absorbing magical energy, if it did channel the power of an Unforgivable Curse to you, you would probably be strong enough to beat just about anybody, especially,” she added thoughtfully, “if your opponent didn’t expect you to get back up if you were hit by the Killing Curse.”   
  
“Exactly,” Michael said. “Now back to the Ri-” But he stopped talking and swore, reaching into his pocket. He retrieved a small, perfectly circular stone about the size of his palm. It was about an inch thick and covered in a network of shallow eteched Runes. Michael drew his wand with his other hand and tapped it against the stone.   
  
A translucent figure of a young woman grew out of the disc, small enough to stand on the small object. Michael frowned and looked down at her as her full body materialized. “You're on assignment?” the woman asked. She looked around, staring at Harry and his friends as soon as she saw them.   
  
“Yeah, what is it?"   
  
“No reason to get snippy with me,” the woman retorted. Sarah made an apologetic face at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “Staffon wants to meet with you. As soon as possible.”  
  
 “About what…?” Michael asked ominously. He had a feeling he already knew.  
  
“I haven't a clue,” the woman replied. “Didn’t say. But it’s obviously important. He wants you two as well,” she added, nodding at Jeff and Sarah.  
  
“We’ll be there soon,” Michael assured her. “Thanks for the heads up.” Without allowing her parting words, Michael tapped the disc again and the woman was gone. He replaced both wand and stone in his pocket, then noticed the face Sarah was making at him. “I know I know,” he forestalled her, “rude to the others. Whatever. Sorry about that,” he told Harry. “Its…well, its STRIKE magic,” he went on, answered the unasked. “I’ll be happy to show you later but it looks like we’re short on time…you too go on home, I’ll be right behind you.”  
  
“What the hell?” Jeff grumbled as he stood up. “Can’t I get a minute of peace today?”   
Sarah stood up to and stretched, and Michael smirked as he noticed the boys’ eyes wander as she grabbed arms behind her and pushed her chest forward.   
  
Apparently she missed this as she waved brightly at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “It was nice meeting all of you. I think we’ll see you again soon!” And with that she and Jeff crossed the room and exited outside to Disaparate.  
  
Michael watched them go then turned to the other three. “Listen, I know this is a lot to take in and I’d like to talk with you all, about things a little more mundane than ancient Dark relics. But…” he sighed dramatically, “duty calls. You’ll probably be seeing us soon, hopefully under better circumstances.”   
  
“So what do I do?” Ron asked him as Michael stood up.  He had tones of both anger and panic in his voice. “You’ve just told me I have to destroy some damn ring and now you’re just leaving? What the hell’s that about?” he said. Ron immediately blushed and Michael supposed he regretted the outburst, justified or not.  
  
“What you need to do, at least for now,” Michael said, putting a hand firmly on his shoulder, “is nothing. We don’t know where the Ring is, though we have a few ideas. Maybe that’s what this meeting’s about…” he added as an afterthought. “And in any case, you’re not the only one who can destroy the Ring, anyone born with the name Weasley can, you just seemed the most capable,” he said coolly.   
  
Ron looked greatly surprised and slightly embarrassed at this. He usually didn’t receive such complements from anybody, let alone complete strangers.   
  
“If you want to tell anyone in your family go ahead, just know that by doing so, you’re putting yourself and them in danger. A lot of Dark wizards would love to get their disturbingly pale hands on any of the Seven, and they would probably view you as a threat to achieving that. So, just…use your discretion. We’re all capable and reasonable people here.” Harry seemed to like that description, based on his facial expression.  
  
“Just one more thing,” Hermione said. “Why exactly do you have to destroy these items? I know the Ring is dangerous but what about the Robe? And the Belt sounded like it could be useful in the right hands too.”   
  
“Because of the innate property that is common to all the items,” Michael said heavily. “They corrupt the mind. They fill your head with,” Michael paused and shook his own head, “with dark thoughts. They make you want to do…things. In short, they're pure evil. It would take an incredibly strong and incorruptible person to use one for any period without being taken in by it.”  
  
Michael waved at them and headed for the door. “We’ll probably meet again right after school starts, so I’ll see you then. Good meeting you.” He opened the door and was about to step out when he stopped. He had been quite proud of himself so far, really projected the authority figure he was supposed to as a STRIKE Captain but…but now Michael felt less like a war leader and more like a teenager.   
  
“Something wrong?” Harry asked, frowning  
  
“What?” Michael said sharply, coming out of a daydream. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Hey, I wanted to ask you, before I left, about that business at the Ministry. I read all about it…you all were impressive. Harry Potter lives up to the legend,” he nodded at Harry, who simply shrugged. “But it wasn’t just you three, right?”  
  
All three of them suddenly looked very uncomfortable and avoided Michael's eye. He rubbed the back of his neck and realized his mistake. “I wasn’t asking about – about any other groups that might or might not have been there. I know there are some things you can't talk about,” he said quickly. Michael didn’t want Potter to think he was probing for information about the Order of the Phoenix…not that he didn’t want any, STRIKE certainly didn’t have much. “But you three brought some other students, right?”   
  
Michael felt a strange pressure in the bottom of his throat. Something had moved up from his chest to cut off most of his air supply.   
  
“Oh, yes, we did,” Hermione breathed, looking relieved, “our friends Luna and Neville, and Ron’s sister Ginny came with us.” Michael nodded quickly.  
  
“Everyone came out okay, right?” he asked. “I heard there were injuries. A lot of Death Eaters were there, some of Voldemort’s best. Not…not all of you have experience fighting Dark Wizards. No offense to you three, I know you can handle yourselves, but well, your friends seemed out of place in a fight like that.”   
  
Michael had spoken much more – and much more quickly – than he had meant to. But in one breath, it was all out and he could only wait for an answer.  
  
“Neville, Luna, and Ginny were all part of our defense group,” Harry told Michael slowly. The look on his face confirmed that he was starting to confuse Harry. “We didn’t want them involved…but they all knew what they were doing.”  
  
“She was able to defend herself?”  
  
Michael went pale and six eyes narrowed at him. Michael was past embarrassed or worried, a near decade of hunger was finally being fed. He shook his head.   
  
“Who?” Ron asked.  
  
Michael paused. He knew if he said the name, there was no going back. He was starting something he couldn’t stop, and he was turning his back on the organization that employed him. They would find out at some point, it was what STRIKE did. They also killed people for a living. But at that moment, Michael only cared about finding out one thing.  
  
“Luna. Luna Lovegood. You know her?”  
  
“Yeah she’s our friend” Ron answered uncertainly. “Do  _you_ know her?”   
  
Michael either didn’t hear or ignored Ron’s question. “That was some bad stuff you got into there. Is Luna doing alright, she didn’t get hurt or anything did she?”   
  
“No she actually came out of that in the best condition of all of us. There were Death Eaters everywhere, I don’t know how she managed…” Hermione stopped talking abruptly and looked at Michael almost suspiciously. “Do you know her? Are you a friend of hers?” Hermione repeated Ron’s question. “She doesn’t have many.”  
  
Michael ignored her just as he had Ron. He had heard enough for now, enough to convince him what he was doing was right. His will was set. “Thank you,” he said quietly, and sincerely. “I’ll meet you all again soon.”   
  
Without another word a pillar of fire erupted around him, and Harry jumped up suddenly, thoroughly startling Ron and Hermione. “Hey wait!” he shouted after him. But it was too late, he was gone by the time Harry had gotten to his feet.   
  
How had he let that happen? How  _could_ he have let that happen? This whole time they had been talking, Harry had been so entranced by what Michael was telling him he hadn’t had a single thought for –   
  
“Sirius!” Harry growled as Hermione and Ron stared at him. “He knew something about Sirius and I didn’t ask him a single thing! Dammit!”  
  
Harry swore again just as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley re-entered the room, looking nervous. “Harry dear, is something wrong?” Mrs. Weasley asked, looking at Ron and Hermione for information, but they just shook their heads sadly.   
  
“I’m going outside” Harry muttered, disappearing through the same door Michael and his friends did, slamming it behind him. He had missed his chance to hear news of his godfather, and instead passed on information about his friend to a man he barely knew. He had been played, tricked by these unknown people from a dangerous group.   
  
He wanted badly to meet Michael Jacobs again.


	8. Chapter 8: Auditions

“ _Reducto!_ ” _  
  
_ “ _Sectumsempra!_ ”   
  
Bellatrix covered her face with her left arm as the curses met, but there was no need. Rather than exploding as one, her curse proved stronger and with a terrible gasping sound, the man in front of her fell to the floor, dead, his throat slit.   
  
She sighed heavily. This was becoming tiring. He was one of the most promising applicants she found, and yet again, she had bested him easily. This would usually be a source of pride for her, only today her life depended on her defeat.   
  
“My Lord,” she called above her, “it’s over. The fool’s dead.”  
  
She was standing in a large, rectangular room. It was dark enough to prevent her from seeing clear to the other end of the room but not so much that she had no idea what was happening, and was littered with scattered debris including crumbling stone pillars and other large objects. There was a large shimmering glass window in the far wall from Bellatrix in which a solitary figure could be seen staring intently down at the room. The room was set up an enormous obstacle course designed to simulate real combat in every kind of likely scenario.  
  
Her Lord’s hiss of a voice emanated from all four walls, as if he was within the very structure of the room. “Now Bella, is that really the best you could find?” His voice was cold and Bellatrix could detect his annoyance. She tensed slightly – that tone was more dangerous to her than any curse from a mere man.   
  
“My Lord, forgive me,” she pleaded. “Do not blame me for their failings.” Her Black arrogance getting the best of her she couldn't stop herself from adding, “You expect too much of them. That they should defeat  _me_ , your greatest and most loyal servant!”   
  
When Voldemort spoke again, the anger in his voice was obvious. “I require someone of extraordinary power if they are to accomplish the task I have for them. My attention is focused elsewhere, and I must find a Wizard in which I can place a reasonable amount of trust.”   
  
“My Lord, I am powerful!” she exclaimed, once again unable to stop herself.   
  
“And yet you have proved time and time again, you are no match for STRIKE’s agents, particularly Mr. Jacobs. How can I expect my new…associate to counter that group’s plans if they are not even able to cope with your level of power? Which is, cursed as I am with such substandard servants, the best audition I can provide.”   
  
Now Bellatrix was angry too. One must always be careful with anger directed at Lord Voldemort, if one intends to continue breathing. “Then why not test them yourself, My Lord? Would it not give you a better chance to gauge their power if they were up against the true strength they are expected to overcome?” she muttered, immediately covering her mouth. She went cold, what had she just said?   
  
“I hope you are not implying,” Voldemort said, making her jump; he had silently appeared behind her, “that you consider those interferences and I to be anything near equal?”  
  
Bella backed away a few paces. “My – my Lord I only meant –”   
  
“I know exactly what you meant Bella” he said, quietly as ever. “I trusted you with the task of finding an appropriate new addition to our little circle, yet you have brought nothing but thugs and petty criminals. And I ask myself, why? I wonder Bella, whether you have truly put your heart into it…?” he finished, his voice almost impossible to hear now.   
  
Bellatrix looked perplexed. “I don’t know what you mean My Lord. I am your most faithful Death Eater, I killed Sirius Black, and I have defeated the strongest Dark wizards I could find and persuade to join us here!”   
  
“But I wonder Bella, are they really?” he asked. Bella cocked her head to the side, apparently still confused. “Were you afraid, perhaps, that this person might replace you in my inner circle? Or did you believe I would impressed by your defeat of this scum?  
  
“I wonder,” he continued coldly, “I am curious how you plan to stay in my good graces with your performance at the Ministry of Magic and again when you allowed the Stone to be stolen….”   
  
Bellatrix flushed an angry red. “Neither of those failures were mine, My Lord! It was Lucius that fucked us at the Ministry and when the outpost came under attack I was sideswiped by Dolohov when Jacobs put the Imperius Curse on him!”   
  
“Exactly!” Voldemort snarled impatiently. “Both times you were thwarted by STRIKE! This is why I require someone else for the job. STRIKE has become more of a danger than I thought possible. They have built a team to stop me, with Jacobs at its head. I require someone to occupy them while I see to more important matters.”  
  
Bellatrix was extremely confused now. “But My Lord…the boy wasn’t at the Ministry, was he? I certainly did not see him, or rest assured one of us would not be alive now,” she finished confidently.   
  
“Really Bella, I think you should count yourself rather fortunate you did not meet any STRIKE agents at the Ministry that night. That would be three strikes against you Bella… assuming they did overpower you.   
  
"But regardless,” he continued, a little louder, “no STRIKE agent was fighting with the Order of the Phoenix last August. But that does not mean there was no danger present.”   
  
“One of them is with STRIKE? One of the children?” she asked sharply.   
  
Voldemort sighed. “Not in the most literal sense. But with so much promise as genetics.… I am surprised you didn’t notice, when by all reports, none of my most elite Death Eaters were able to put more than a scratch on her.” Lord Voldemort’s eyes narrowed and he drew in a small amount of air. “I hear she resembles her mother. You knew the woman Bella, you didn’t realize, years later, you had met her daughter?”  
  
Bella’s eyes widened with comprehension. “ _Her_   _daughter_ –?”   
  
But she was interrupted by the door to a smaller room being thrown open, bathing the much darker room with light. Before the door swung closed again, Bella saw a mass of bodies lying on the floor, most covered in blood. All the other applicants she had brought to be tested were – quite violently – dead.   
  
The man who entered was not wearing robes, although he did have a hood drawn over his face, connected to a black sweatshirt. Bella noticed that he didn’t have a drop of blood on him, despite the massacre he had apparently just committed. She immediately felt a combination of admiration for his clean talent and repulsion at his Muggle attire. Although…she had never been able to keep her robes clean during a bloodbath like that.   
  
   
  
Not that she took much care to.  
  
  
He stopped when he was within a few steps of the pair and crossed his arms. “Well…I suppose this is a bit awkward, isn’t it? How  _do_ you introduce yourself to the Dark Lord?” he mused.  
  
   
  
“With more respect than that!” Bellatrix immediately fired at him. Voldemort shook his head.   
  
   
  
“A massacre worthy of Bellatrix is certainly one way of doing it,” he said. Lord Voldemort was intrigued. “Why did you kill them?”  
  
   
  
The man shrugged. “They would’ve just wasted time – none of them were really worth much, not up to the standards I know you require. And besides,” he added with another one-shouldered shrug, “you would’ve just killed them yourself anyway.”  
  
   
  
Voldemort stared at the new entrant for a moment, then slowly turned to look at his lieutenant. “Bellatrix,” he asked carefully, now idly running his fingers along his wand, “explain quickly why this man was not the first person in line. My time is  _indeed_ very valuable and our newcomer seems more concerned about it going to waste than you are.”  
  
   
  
“I didn’t bring him My Lord!” Bellatrix burst out, her large eyes fixed on Voldemort’s wand, trembling slightly. “He was not one of my recruits –!”  
  
   
  
The man chuckled.  “Well…in a way, I am actually.” Bellatrix’s head jerked away from her master and to the hooded man now. Her lower lip quivered. The hooded man gave her a tiny nod; meanwhile the lipless Voldemort had not moved his wand away from Bellatrix. The Dark Wizard addressed him. “Bellatrix did bring me here,” he informed Voldemort. “I'm here because of her.” There was a strange mixture of emotion in his tone now: pride, anger, and possibly something else close to sorrow. Voldemort looked back and forth between the two, did nothing for a moment, then began to lower his wand back to his side. Bellatrix breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
   
  
“But all the same,” the hooded man said, “she has wasted your time with substandard offerings. Why let her get off so easily?” Bellatrix’s breath caught in her throat and now she was hit by dueling emotions – fear and fury in her case. Voldemort considered the man and despite her years of experience, Bellatrix had no idea what her master was thinking.   
  
   
  
“An excellent point,” Voldemort whispered. His wand was back on Bellatrix instantly. “ _Crucio_!” Bellatrix flopped to the floor, writing like a fish left to bake on a riverbank. For a few seconds, she fought, she was able to hold back, but those brave seconds felt like hours and soon her Black pride was forgotten, replaced only by limitless pain. And then the curse was lifted and Voldemort was addressing the hooded man, who was paying more attention to her than her master.   
  
   
  
“You understand of course to expect no less if you should fail?” Voldemort threatened quietly.   
  
   
  
“That's irrelevant,” the man replied. Bellatrix couldn’t see his face, but she knew exactly what he was feeling, what he was thinking – it was exactly as she did herself in similar situations. He turned his face squarely down to her. “Sorry about that…” he offered, and she knew he was grinning, “couldn’t resist.” Bellatrix pushed herself onto her knees and planted her shaking palms against the ground. The hooded man held out a hand. Bellatrix stared at it, then at his covered face, then briefly at Voldemort, who seemed amused by the exchange. Her eyes moved back to the waiting hand up.   
  
   
  
“It’s only polite.”  
  
   
  
“Polite?” Bellatrix repeated in total disbelief.   
  
   
  
“Exactly,” confirmed the hooded man. He leaned down a little further to place his helping hand closer. Bellatrix blinked once more then, slowly, she reached out and grasped his hand with her own. As the man pulled up, she yanked down. Bellatrix caught him by surprise and he tumbled to the ground as she found her footing and drew her wand with her left hand. She quickly shot a red flash of light his direction, but he rolled out of the way and now had his own wand clutched in hand.   
  
   
  
He shot his own yellow curse at Bella, who found it more difficult to block than she expected due to her offhanded wand placement. It staggered her backwards a few steps, giving the man time to jump to his feet. Bellatrix took the second he righted himself to shift her wand to her dominant hand, then immediately reengaged the Wizard. Each of her spells was met with one of his own, some spells exploding on contact, others ricocheting off at dangerous angles, and a few piercing straight through an inferior spell. The violent exchange had turned the dark room into a makeshift lightshow. Both combatants moved forward as the fought and before long they were nearly face to face. Bellatrix was angrier than ever – not only had he gotten her tortured by the Cruciatas Curse, he was making her look inept in front of her Lord, who had fallen back a few back a few paces to watch with a smile on his snake-face.   
  
   
  
At this distance there was little room to dodge or maneuver, duels like this were really a contest of pure magical power, of who could fire off the most, the strongest spells. Bellatrix met his Stunner with one of his own and the room exploded in a blinding red light. Seizing her chance, Bellatrix rushed forward and extended her arm straight out. When a second had passed and the room was once again dimly lit, her wand was pointed straight into his face, actually under his still-on hood. Bellatrix blinked – she found herself in the same situation. Wizard and Witch stood frozen, panting heavily, wand arms shaking equally.  
  
   
  
“Enough.”  
  
   
  
Voldemort had finally spoken. He stepped back towards the two again and Bella was hugely relieved to see he looked pleased. Bellatrix immediately lowered her wand; after a second the other man did as well. The hooded man chuckled a third time.    
  
   
  
“Fun stuff…it’s been a while,” he said, slowly regaining his breath. “No hard feelings?” he asked her.  
  
   
  
“None,” Bellatrix replied, and then she grinned at the new man. She was as impressed as her Master appeared.   
  
   
  
“Very few men can stand up to Bellatrix,” Lord Voldemort stated. He inclined his head at her. “I am…impressed by one who could so nearly best her, even when surprised. I considered allowing the fight further, but I require you both in good health. The STRIKE group I want dead will not fall easily.”  
  
   
  
 “STRIKE agents are overrated,” the hooded man said easily. “They use their lack of reputation as a reputation. Only works if you're actually intimidated by them.”   
  
   
  
“And you are not?” Voldemort asked.  
  
   
  
“What is Michael Jacobs?” the man countered. Bellatrix understood more and more who and what she was dealing with now. The more he spoke, the more sure she was. “A STRIKE agent, a wanderer, a leader…a traitor. I have experience killing all of those things.”  
  
   
  
“Traitor?” Voldemort repeated.   
  
   
  
“The worst kind,” the man replied. “If you start to treat Jacobs like a saint, you’ll regret it. Don't underestimate what he’s capable of.”  
  
   
  
“But you know?”  
  
   
  
“Firsthand,” the second Wizard answered. He displayed agitation for the first time. Voldemort quickly moved in on this.  
  
   
  
“You’ve dealt with him before, then?”  
  
   
  
“I've dealt with all of you…” was the quiet answer. “You,” he nodded at Voldemort, “you,” he pointed at Bellatrix, “and yes, with Michael too.” He cracked his knuckles loudly.   
  
   
  
“We have no idea who we are dealing with now,” Bellatrix accused. “Show us your face.”  
  
  
The man’s hands reached up to the sides of his hood and he pulled it down slowly, turning to reveal his face to Voldemort first so that Bellatrix had to lean to the side to make out more than an outline in the darkness around them.   
  
He said nothing, he simply looked at Voldemort, ignoring Bellatrix. Voldemort’s red eyes widened with shock and comprehension as the now uncloaked man raised his eyebrows, asking for a reaction.  
  
Then his face broke into an evil grin and he threw back his head and laughed. Lord Voldemort laughed louder and louder, like he hadn’t done in years. The sound of it echoed off the walls as Bellatrix recognized the man and her insane laughter joined her master’s.


	9. Chaper 9: A Black Reunion

Harry was sitting on the ground under a tall old tree in the Weasley’s yard, not far from the spot he and his friends had been attacked by Death Eaters yesterday. He stared straight ahead, pulling up fistfuls of grass unconsciously. When he heard footsteps behind him, he didn’t bother turning around.   
  
Something large and hairy pressed up against him. He turned quickly and saw a black dog standing next to him. Harry blinked, forcing his eyes shut much longer than necessary to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. He had seen this dog before. He knew this dog – this man.  
  
  
“Sirius!” he said, the loudness of his voice surprising even himself. Without thinking Harry wrapped the dog in a hug around its neck; the dog merely barked at him. “Sirius you're – Sirius?” Harry looked down at the enormous dog and frowned. He wasn’t reacting at all. Harry felt his heart break. It wasn’t Sirius Black, just a black dog. He  released the dog and dropped his arms weakly down.   
  
He had gotten his hopes up for nothing. Sirius was dead – or missing – or something; he was away, in any case. Feelings of abandonment like Harry had never known swirled around Harry’s head, then distilled to the rest of his body, draining any strength he had left. Harry looked down at his feet, but felt a weight on his shoulders.     
  
The dog had jumped up on him, almost knocking Harry onto his back. The massive dog barked in his face and stared into his eyes. Harry immediately knew who he was looking back at. This close, there was no mistaking his godfather’s Animagus form. Before Harry could say anything, the dog pushed off Harry’s shoulders, rearing back on two legs. The transformation from dog to man meant he never landed back on all four legs. The far too shaggy hair of a man replaced dirty fur, two long legs supported him rather than four, and suddenly, Sirius Black stood before Harry, grinning, tears in his eyes.  
  
Perhaps one tiny bit of Harry whispered a warning: That this could not be Sirius, that it was an imposter, that it was impossible, that he was dead…But Harry’s heart overpowered his brain – as it often did – and he was absolutely sure his godfather was back.   
  
“Sirius?” was all he could muster.  
  
“Harry.”  Sirius’ voice was stronger than Harry remembered. Harry looked him up and down – by and large he looked almost exactly like he had the last time Harry had seen him. Yet now he seemed happier, stronger. The only time Harry had seen him like this was during the short time between the suggestion Harry come live with him and its demise when Wormtail escaped.   
  
  
Harry couldn’t think of anything to say so instead he unashamedly engulfed him a huge hug, which Sirius returned with interest. They broke apart and Sirius looked at him, and Harry knew there were tears in his own eyes. Neither man felt shamed by them, the moment was too important to feel anything other than joy, admittedly mixed with confusion and intrigue.  
  
  
“I thought you were dead,” Harry told Sirius. Saying it outright was necessary, any tip-toeing or feigned disinterest would only make the situation stranger. Harry hated saying it, yet found the words somewhat easier now that they were phrased as a question rather than a statement.   
  
“I…well I think I was,” Sirius said quietly. “I don't know. I wasn’t,” he added finally. “No, I wasn’t dead. I'm back now. I'm here, with you Harry.”  
  
“But- but how?” Harry spluttered suddenly. “You- I saw you fall through the Veil! Bellatrix killed you!”   
  
Sirius opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a shout from the direction of the Burrow.   
  
“SIRIUS?”   
  
“Ron, what are you talking about?”   
  
Harry could tell Ron and Hermione were on their way down to where he and Sirius were standing. Harry doubted whether they could see them very well as they were concealed behind the large oak.   
  
The argument was easier to make out as they got closer.   
  
“Ron, just because you saw a black dog doesn’t mean Sirius is back!” Hermione was saying irritably.   
  
“That guy was about to tell Harry something about him!” Ron retorted angrily.   
  
Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Someone’s talking about me?” he asked Harry.   
  
“Err…yeah,” he told Sirius. “He actually just left…we had a run in with some Death Eaters and met him – Michael Jacobs. Do you know him?”   
  
Sirius nodded slightly but was unable to answer though as Ron and Hermione had apparently spotted them. Harry flinched at the earsplitting high pitched sequel.   
  
“Oh my God! Sirius!” Hermione shrieked, stopping dead in her tracks.   
  
While disbelief had divided them only a moment ago, now the pair stood united by pure shook. “Wow” Ron said, closing his eyes and scrunching up his face. “Okay, now I see money, piles of Galleons on my lawn. We’re swimming in treasure….” He opened his eyes and look around hopefully, as though actually expecting to see gold strewn across the grass.   
  
“Oh well,” he said in a disappointed voice, “thought I might have found a new power, making things the way I picture them. But Sirius!” he said, shaking his head rapidly, “its…well it’s good to see you mate!”  
  
“Ron, I appreciate the enthusiasm,” Sirius grinned – Harry suddenly felt a great surge of happiness at seeing this – “but if that were true, wouldn’t you and Hermione be doing something other than arguing?”  
  
Hermione and Ron both looked mortified as Sirius laughed at himself. Harry couldn’t help himself; he joined in as well.  
  
  
“But Sirius, how can you be here?” Hermione asked, turning a deep red as the other two continued to laugh. “You got murdered!” she said loudly causing them both to stop laughing and turn to look at her, along with Ron, which made her blush – if possible – an even deeper red.   
  
“It’s a long story,” Sirius sighed her. “And I’ll tell you all I can, but first let’s get into the house, I’m sure Molly would be so disappointed if I didn’t stop in to say hello,” he said with a small smile. Sirius and Mrs. Weasley had never gotten along very well, but Harry knew she would be as thrilled to see him alive as anyone else.  
  
They agreed and began the trip back to the Burrow. After the Weasleys had finished exclaiming over Sirius’ return from the dead and everyone had settled down in the sitting room, Sirius began his story.   
  
“Well, as you all know, I got into some trouble in the Department of Mysteries a while ago. I let my guard down and acted exactly like she thought I would…and I got beat by my cousin, Bellatrix. She didn’t kill me though.” At this Sirius stopped, seemingly expecting someone to interrupt him. No one did, however and he carried on.   
  
“She only Stunned me, but the force of the spell did push me through the Veil. After that, darkness. Nothing but darkness. But I knew I wasn’t dead. I was alive, at least in some way, but I wasn’t conscious, really. Maybe…an enchanted sleep is the best way to describe it. Then I woke up.”   
  
“Sorry,” Harry interrupted, “but you woke up?”   
  
“I suppose, I can’t really think of a better way to put it,” Sirius confirmed. “So yes, I woke up. I was lying in front of the Veil, right about where I was when the Curse hit me. I was still wearing the same robes and everything.”   
  
“So you just…appeared…outside in the Department of Mysteries?” Hermione asked slowly. “How did you get out?”  
  
Sirius didn’t say anything at first and Harry wondered whether Sirius knew the answer himself. “I…I had help,” he eventually said. “I was…pulled out…of that place.”  
  
“By who?” Mr. Weasley asked. He seemed, if not the most interested, the most concerned, by Sirius’ story. Harry knew why Mr. Weasley was keen on keeping up with any secrets that might be going on in the Ministry, just a few floors down from where he worked.  
  
“I...can't say,” Sirius muttered.   
  
“Why not?” Harry demanded, very eager to know by whom and through what means Sirius had been returned to him.   
  
“I made a Vow,” Sirius said sadly. “An Unbreakable Vow. To the people who helped me,” he added after a second of deliberation. “The…people who helped me…are secretive. I suppose it’s for good reason, but even after pulling me out of there, they don't fully trust me. I've had to swear to tell none of their secrets, or anything about them.”  
  
Every word Sirius spoke came out slowly and thoughtfully. Harry wasn’t sure exactly what an Unbreakable Vow was – though everyone else had sobered considerably at the mention of it – but it was obvious Sirius took this promise very seriously.   
  
“Did…did Michael Jacobs have something to do with this?” Harry asked. He attempted to phrase his question vaguely, in the hopes that Sirius would be able to answer in kind.  
  
“He was involved,” Sirius replied. “He…well, he helped. Look,” he added in a desperate way, “I'm not trying to keep things from you.” He was plainly addressing Harry here. “Last year I told you things the Order never wanted you to know…but I  _can't_ this time. These…these people don't want to kill me, they don't want me to die from breaking the Vow. They just want to operate quietly.”  
  
“So you're working with someone else?” Mrs. Weasley asked. “Not with the Order anymore?” There was nothing accusing in her tone, which Harry was thankful for.  
  
“They want to me to stay with them until they're sure I can be trusted,” Sirius said bitterly. “After that I'm free to go, but for now I'm running jobs with them. Of  course if I had known about the Death Eaters here…I’d have been here sooner. I'm not actually supposed to be here at all, actually,” he added, now smiling a little at the disobedience. “But…damn I hope this isn’t considered breaking the Vow, but Michael helped me get over to see you all. He has more pull than most people with…us.  
  
“And that,” he sighed heavily, “is all I can tell you.”   
  
Harry had a feeling what was coming next. “You're not staying though, are you?”   
  
Sirius frowned and Harry had his answer. At least Sirius didn’t look any happier than he did. “I can't Harry…I can't.” He looked angry now. “I want to, you know I do. But…I'm not even supposed to be here. But hopefully I’ll be free of the Vow soon, then I can come back. Just don't forget, everyone, that I'm still out there fighting Voldemort, just like you all are.”  
  
Harry didn’t say anything. In truth, he was extremely angry that Sirius was being taken away again. But at least this time Harry had been given a promise to see him again…for now, it would have to do.


	10. Chapter 10: The Veil and the Girl

It had been two weeks since Sirius had made his stunning reappearance, and for fourteen straight days Ron, Harry, and Hermione had been constantly under questioning from the Weasley’s, particularly Ginny and Mrs. Weasley. Ron had constructed a simple excuse for their private talk with Michael Jacobs, although it came with a downside.  
  
  
“Mum, I'm telling you! He just wanted to know if Ginny was available!”   
  
Harry actually thought that this was a rather good lie. It was certainly plausible. Ginny was, Harry thought, a very attractive girl. The only was drawback was that Ginny, who had quickly been released from the hospital, seemed keenly interested in what Michael had said about her.   
  
The night before their return to school, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were relaxing in Ron's room, Harry rather drowsy after the large dinner Mrs. Weasley had prepared. Ever since the attack on the Burrow, Harry couldn’t shake the strange notion that he would see Hermione sniff her food very discreetly every now and again. When he finally confronted her, she admitted to him she was concerned Ron’s mother  _may_ have been slipping them Truth Potions. She had laughed too loudly after the suggestion and brushed it off as absurd, but from then on Harry became far more conscious of any unusual flavors in his pumpkin soup.  
  
At around eleven, Hermione was just getting up from where she had been sprawled across Ron's bed when Ginny crept in. She shut the door behind her and walked straight over to Harry, who was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. He scooted over instinctively to give her more room, but she dropped right next to him, their legs lightly touching. Ron coughed.  
   
“So,” she began immediately, looking at each of them in turn, “what did he really tell you lot?”   
  
“I told you already,” Ron said irritably, “he wanted to know a bit more about you. Not that I’d tell him anything….”   
  
“Oh please,” she said, sounding just as annoyed as Ron, “Mum might have believed you, but I know that’s not at all what he wanted. I want to know before we go back to Hogwarts, so out with it.”   
  
Ron looked at his sister, both redheads locked in a battle of defiance.  
  
“Ginny, I'm not going to tell you. Drop it.”  
  
“Fine,” Ginny said, raising her chin at Ron. “You don't need to tell me.” She gracefully rolled her head back down and to the side, so she was face to face with Harry. She smiled at him; not a warm, friendly smile like usual. One side of her mouth came up slightly more than the other, but both her eyebrows were raised. “I have ways of getting it out of Harry,” she added casually, theoretically still addressing Ron, but with her full attention on the deeply uncomfortable boy beside her.  
  
“You win!” Ron said quickly, throwing his hands up in defeat. Harry let out a sigh, and Ginny rearranged her eyebrows to look at him in confusion, with one arched much higher than the other. Harry laughed loudly at that, feeling relieved, and Hermione grinned at him from across the room.  
  
“Fine, fine!” Ron growled. He took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you. So there’s these seven items…”   
  
He explained everything about the Slytherin Seven and the Weasley’s link to him. He misspoke more than a few times during his story, Harry and Hermione filling in the parts he got wrong. It was about thirty minutes later when they stopped talking and decided to go to bed. Harry fell asleep with his head full of the memory of Ginny’s move against Ron and…in another way…against him.   
  
Times like this made Harry wish his best friend didn’t also happen to be the brother of the girl he was dreaming about.  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione woke up early and headed into the kitchen. No one ate much breakfast, all were nervous about the trip to the station. None of them would admit it, but the attack on the Burrow had unsettled all of them. They were to be accompanied by Aurors, but after seeing what had happened to the few that had been supposedly watching over him, Harry’s confidence was shaken.   
  
Harry’s fears were unfounded however, and the group arrived at Platform 9 ¾ without incident. At least, until they had passed through the barrier and the Hogwarts express came into view. The Auror who was with Harry gripped his arm painfully and spun around as a tired voice called out to him. “Hey Harry! Ron, Hermione!”   
  
To his great surprise Harry saw Michael, Sarah, and Jeff walking over to him. All were wearing black Hogwarts robes, though they had no coloring in the lining. Michael looked extremely tired and was walking slightly slower than Jeff and Sarah, who had a slight spring in her step and looked wide awake.   
  
Ron and Hermione had also swiveled around and shared his mild surprise. “What are you doing here?” Hermione asked as they came to a stop. Harry noticed the Aurors were looking at them rather unpleasantly. The six teens stood a bit awkwardly in their small groups, rocking back and forth on their heels and occasionally glancing at the adults with the Trio.  
  
“Well, remember when we said we’d see you soon?” Sarah said brightly. Michael rubbed his eyes wearily. “This is our mission.”   
  
“Wait,” Michael said sharply, holding up one hand. “You two can go,” he said to the Aurors. When they did nothing but glower at him he added in a low voice, “Do you really want to do this right now? I did not come here to fight  _Aurors_. So please – shove off.”   
  
The two Aurors looked at each other for a moment, and then sent a last annoyed look at Michael. They released their grips on Harry and Hermione’s arms and disappeared into the crowd of people on the platform. Michael heaved a deep sigh and shoved his hands in his pockets.  
  
“I thought you were supposed to destroy,” Ron dropped his voice, “the Slytherin Seven. Or have you found one?” he said, looking suddenly nervous.   
  
Michael shook his head. “No, we haven't got any leads on the Seven. But we do have a new mission.” He paused. “We have a…a different job too. We’re coming with you, basically.”  
  
“Coming with us?” Hermione repeated.  
  
“As students,” Jeff supplied shortly. “Your classmates. Transfer students from Salem to anyone who asks.”  
  
“We’re here partially to watch out for you,” Michael told Ron. When he opened his mouth Michael added, “We need you to get rid of the Seven, we need to make sure you stay safe. With you and Harry there, well…your school’s probably a target.”   
  
Harry and Ron exchanged looks. “Our leader – General Staffon – offered us to Dumbledore for support. He doesn’t know about the Seven…or maybe he does,” Michael added thoughtfully. “ _We_ didn’t tell him about it, but from what I hear about Dumbledore, he knows everything. I met him once before when I was in the Aurors, he agreed to take us on. He will be the only other person here who knows who we are.”  
  
“So you're just here to keep us all safe…while you wait to find out more about that Ring?” Ron summarized. All three STRIKE agents looked at each other. Michael rubbed the back of his neck.   
  
“Basically…yeah. I – look,” Michael was suddenly irritated, “I have something I want to talk to you three about later.”  
  
Now the other trio took their turns to exchange looks. “Something else to do with Voldemort?” Harry asked quietly. Michael was becoming more aware of people stopping to look at them; the six of them had been standing in one place for a very long time. The train seemed ready to leave.  
  
“No,” he said quickly. “Personal stuff. Don't worry about it right now…lead the way, let’s get on board.”  
  
“It’s going to be nice,” Sarah said, smiling pleasantly as Harry showed them to the train. “We basically get a few months off active duty. It’ll be great. No fighting, no planning, no…killing.”   
  
Jeff snorted suddenly. “Sarah, do you really think Staffon would have given this job to us if there wasn’t going to be trouble? You know as well as I do there’s going to be fighting, and don’t forget, the Seven are still our main mission so there will be planning, and if things go bad, probably killing.”   
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other with that certain look. Michael knew what they were thinking: Killing? At Hogwarts?   
  
“Hopefully,” Michael said, not keen to come off immediately as bloodthirsty, “the two jobs won’t ever meet. If everything goes right, we’ll just hang around the school this year as students and we’ll deal with the Seven when the time comes.”   
  
The six of them, Ginny having run off with some friends when they got on the platform, hurried onto the train and found an empty compartment towards the back. As soon as they had all settled in comfortably Ron rounded on Michael, who was sitting directly across from him. “All right, it’s a long ride so, out with it. Tell us everything,” he said in an uncharacteristically forceful voice.   
  
Michael crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. He didn’t appreciate that tone or the fact that the person he was supposed to be making friends with was suddenly giving him orders. And Weasley, of all people. Michael wasn’t sure what had gotten into him – everything they had on him suggested he was the least likely of the Trio to take charge of any situation. But then Hermione patiently answered his question.   
  
“Ron, I know you’re worried about all the business with the Ring of Four, but don’t order people around,” she admonished him softly.   
  
Jeff waved his hand and shook his head. “Anyone have something to wake me up?” he asked Michael and Sarah.   
  
Sarah sighed and stood up. She pulled her trunk down into her lap and began rummaging through it. She finally found a vial of green potion and handed it to him.   
  
“I don’t know what you two were thinking,” she said with a sigh. “You knew we had to get up early today, what the hell were you doing drinking?”   
  
“You could’ve come” Michael said, taking the bottle from Jeff and draining the remaining half. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and casually tossed the empty bottle back into Sarah’s trunk. “It was fun – and probably the last time we’ll see everyone for a while.”   
  
Sarah shook her head. “I was with my own friends.”   
  
The potion seemed to be doing Jeff and Michael good. Both were now sitting up straight, grinning. “Sarah’s friends are no fun,” Michael nodded at the other three. “That's why she’s friends with us more than them – they don't drink.”  
  
“They don't drink enough,” Sarah muttered. But then she fixed a much more serious look on Michael. “Hey, Michael, really, you shouldn’t keep drinking so much because of –”  
  
“Stop it!” Ron cried suddenly. “Every time you’re about to tell us anything, you change the subject to some stupid thing! Just tell us who the hell you are and why I have to finish your damn business for you! We’ve got enough to contend with!”   
  
“Ron…” Harry began, but Ron cut across him, shaking his head frantically.  
  
“No,” he said sharply. “Harry, we have enough problems to deal with! What makes this our business?”  
  
“First of all,” Michael replied, his voice like ice, “it’s your family that created the Ring, so it’s definitely your business. And second, you’re right.”   
  
Ron blinked. “I’m right?” he repeated.   
  
“Yeah,” Michael nodded, “you're absolutely right. It’s not your fault an ancestor of yours created an Dark item twelve-hundred years ago. But Ron, you  _are_ the only one who can do something about it. Your sister is too inexperienced. She wouldn’t make it through what we may encounter. I think you can.”  
  
Ron hesitated a moment, obviously a little taken aback by the pronouncement. He placed his hands slowly on his knees. “What are we going to encounter?”  
  
Michael shrugged and gave a little shake of his head. “Evil.”  
  
“I’m sorry we keep changing the subject,” he went on. “It’s just I’m so used to secrecy it’s kind of become a habit. So just ask, and I’ll tell you whatever you want.”   
  
“Okay” Harry said at once. “How did you bring back Sirius?”   
  
“Well, you were there at the Ministry last June,” Michael told her. “You know he got hit by a curse from Lestrange and fell through the Veil.”   
  
“Exactly” said Hermione. “He died.”   
  
“You don’t know much about that Veil do you?” Michael asked politely, extended a hand, palm open in her direction.  
  
“Of course I do!” she said indignantly. “The Ministry used to use it execute criminals, apart from studying it intensely. They stopped using it around a hundred years ago. After that all major criminals was sent to Azkaban, regardless of the severity of their crime.”   
  
“Once again, you’re right in the basics but wrong in the details. Like the fact that the Veil does not kill the person who passes through it. The Ministry started that rumor to frighten potential criminals,” Michael said, trying his best not to offend her again. “The Veil is actually a huge prison, designed to hold the absolute worst criminals till they die, in a reality separate from our own.”   
  
“So why would the Death Eaters not all be in the Veil, instead of Azkaban?”  Harry asked.  
  
“Ever notice how, apart from Voldemort, no Dark Lord has ever held onto power for very long?” Michael posed. “Not over here at least.” He gestured out the window at the English countryside rushing by them.  
  
“Of course not,” Hermione said at once. “In the end they’re either killed by Aurors, other Dark Wizards, or thrown into the Veil or Azkaban.”  
  
“In that, you've got it exactly,” Michael smiled at Hermione. “Here’s how it would go: The Veil would be full of dark wizards. There would be one Dark Lord running around. So if it seemed as if the Aurors – or their precursors – would fail, the Ministry would employ a new tactic. They would open up the Veil and take out the two strongest dark wizards who were currently imprisoned. They would then ask them to make the Unbreakable Vow.   
  
“They would swear to do everything they could to stop the current reigning Dark Lord and then to renounce the Dark Arts. If they were successful they would be freed and allowed to live the rest of their lives bound by their word never to practice Dark Magic again, and in secret. Couldn’t have the public finding out the Ministry was employing Dark Wizards, of course. It’s interesting to note that the Vow only required them to give up Dark Magic once the enemy was dead. They were free to use any means they saw fit to defeat their prey.”   
  
“That’s…that’s just plain corrupt!” Hermione exclaimed, her face turning red.   
  
“And as to why the Death Eaters aren’t all in the Veil…well, obviously to get the Dark Wizards out, someone has to open the Veil to set them free. Very few people know this technique. Very secret, very dangerous. Predictably, Voldemort is one of those people. If he ever did penetrate into the Ministry and get some time to himself in the Department of Mysteries…we’d be screwed.”  
  
“So you opened the Veil and rescued Sirius?” Harry asked. Michael shook his head.  
  
“No, I can't do it. But I did bring it to our leader’s attention and he got it done.”  
  
 “But how did you know he fell through the Veil?” Hermione retorted. “The papers all said he was killed in the fighting, they weren’t specific how.”   
  
Michael smiled. “I know because it is my job to know.”   
  
“So tell us about your job then,” Hermione said.   
  
Jeff and Sarah turned to look at him questioningly, as if asking if it was all right to answer. Michael took a deep breath.   
  
“We work for STRIKE, which is basically an underground group that works to keep people safe. A little like the Order of the Phoenix, except they focus only on Voldemort. STRIKE is much larger and runs a lot more operation. Came into existence in nineteen-forty six, after the Muggles had their last big war and we finished with Grindelwald. We’ve never really been public, but several top ranking Ministry and other world officials know about us. Most of the Aurors know too, but then that’s probably because they recognize our agents. Mostly me.”   
  
Ron stared at him and Michael felt suddenly uncomfortable. “You were an Auror? Why on earth would you give that up?”   
  
Michael’s face darkened and Ron seemed to know this was a question he should not have asked.   
  
“I spent six months with the Aurors,” Michael said quietly. “Jeff and Sarah were still in America at the time and I didn’t know very many people here. I had a partner, he joined up about the same time I did. We weren’t great friends, but like I said, I didn’t know many other people. Voldemort killed him when Rufus Scrimgeour sent us on a mission he knew was a trap. He didn’t tell us so we would act as bait…I survived because the other Aurors showed up. Voldemort got away and I got this,” Michael gestured to the scar along his temple. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked nauseated. “That was my last night as an Auror. STRIKE found me in London a few days later and I joined up as soon as they asked.”   
  
Ron didn’t ask any more questions about his job, so Harry asked him another. He looked a little pale, but eager for more information.  
  
“Where’d you go to school?” he asked.   
  
“Oh,” Michael smiled again, glad to change the subject, “Salem Memorial University, back in the States. It’s named after the Witch hunts. Jeff and Sarah did too until a while ago.  
  
“So how did you end up here anyway?” Harry asked. “You're a long way from home, did you just come to be an Auror?”  
  
“Well, yes and no,” Michael said, shrugging. “See the American Magic Corps, or AMC, wanted…well not so much a spy, but an agent inside the British Ministry, and the Aurors wanted me. I was only sixteen so my parents, that is my foster parents didn’t want me to go, but they understood what a threat Voldemort is so they allowed it and a few days later I arrived here in Britain with a bag of Galleons and a suitcase full of dreams.”   
  
Michael himself wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not.   
  
“I don't mean to offend –” Hermione began.  
  
“Go ahead, offend,” Jeff urged her. Sarah laughed; Michael scowled.  
  
“– but why did they choose you?” Hermione went on. “You seem very capable, don't get me wrong, but why did they pick someone so young, out of school, to come over here?”  
  
Michael leaned back in his seat and folded his arms. “You know, I really have no idea. I've asked the same question to myself – and a few others – and never got an answer. Someone recommended me, and it was enough to have the AMC throw out their other candidates and hand me a Portkey. No idea who the hell would say that about me, never mind someone with the influence to make it happen.”  
  
“Anyway like I said, I was with the Aurors for a few months. Then things went bad and I watched first friend I made here in Britain die in front of me. Not a fun experience.”  
  
“And you really fought with You-Know-Who?” Ron asked incredulously.   
  
“Yes. Let me tell you: Anything you hear about his power is not an exaggeration. He was…he was fucking terrifying.” Michael looked at Harry, who had been watching him closely. “You agree?” Harry nodded.   
  
“Its…I haven't really talked to anyone else who actually fought with him.”  
  
"When Owen and I squared off against him, there was… nothing I could do. The two of us held our own for a while, but then Owen went down….” Michael sighed. “Voldemort was about to finish me, but the Aurors showed up and intervened.”  
  
“After that, I had a few words for Scrimgeour, none of which I can repeat in front of a lady. He told me to deal with it or walk. Idiot. He thought I would only do one. I told him to go to hell and that I would never work with him again.   
  
“I was living in a little apartment in London then, and for the next few days the only company I had was a nice bottle of Firewhiskey…a couple bottles actually. I was just starting to sober up when there was a knock on the door. I was still too drunk to really care who it was, so I just ignored it and hoped whoever it was would go away. Couple seconds later my door falls down and there are three guys in black armor are standing in my house. Naturally I tried to kill them.”   
  
“You tried to kill them?” Hermione asked, her voice much higher than usual.   
  
“Well, I may be exaggerating a little,” Michael conceded with a small smile, “but I wasn’t in a mood to be very civil to anyone in dark robes busting down my door. And I said I was  _starting_  to sober up. So we had ourselves a little altercation. It took a bit more than I expected, but I Disarmed and Stunned two of them. I was just about to raise the hostilities when an older man stepped inside as well.   
  
“I was pretty angry, and I assumed they were some kind of Dark Wizards, if not the Death Eaters themselves. But I just knew that this was a guy I didn’t want to screw with. It wasn’t just that I didn’t think I could beat him, but that I really didn’t want to have any kind of fight with this guy. Pretty similar to the feeling you get around Dumbledore, you know? A kind of power in the air.   
  
"The old guy told me his name was Staffon, and that he was leader of a group called STRIKE. Said it stood for Strength, Tactics, Resourcefulness, Intelligence, Killer-Instinct, and Excellence – the qualities that embody a STRIKE agent.   
  
“Apparently they were impressed by me like the Aurors were, but they knew what needed to be done to stop Voldemort. No politics, no bullshit. So I said I would on one condition. I made them offer Jeff and Sarah the choice to join too.”   
  
“We just finished school” Sarah explained, “And we wanted to come and help fight, but after what Michael wrote us about the Aurors, we knew that it wasn’t for us. General Staffon said that if we were willing to risk our lives and join STRIKE then he had no place stopping us. So we headed over here and we were all together again.” She smirked, satisfied. “Voldemort didn’t know what hit him. Something wrong?” she added, as Ron had half convulsed at the sound of Voldemort’s name.   
  
“A lot of people here have a problem saying Voldemort’s name,” Harry said, as Hermione rolled her eyes. “He did a lot of damage here last time; I guess you Americans wouldn’t be as… terrified of him.”   
  
Jeff glared at him. “What do you mean ‘You Americans?’”   
  
Harry started. “I meant –”   
  
But Jeff was laughing. “I’m kidding!” he said. He grinned for the first time since they had met the Trio. “I get it. He’s a monster, and he’s done a lot of terrible things here. We’re going to try and stop him doing any more. I do have a theory about all that though.”  
  
“What?” asked Michael, smiling to himself, sure he was about to say something ill suited for Sarah or Hermione’s ears.   
  
“I figured out why Voldemort’s such a jerk off,” Jeff said easily.  
  
Michael sighed, he saw that coming. “Well, Jeff, enlighten us: Why is Voldemort such a jerk off?”   
  
“Because he never gets any,” Jeff replied at once and with all certainty.   
  
“Gets…any?” Sarah repeated slowly, looking close to laughing. “He…yes, I’m sure that's it. And who’s going to do it?”  
  
“Bellatrix,” Michael suggested, not smiling.  
  
“Malfoy,” Harry put in, grinning himself.  
  
“Sar –”  
  
Jeff’s proposal was cut short as a jet of blue light hit him in the face, causing his mouth to completely disappear. Michael soon fell victim to the same spell from Sarah’s wand as he broke into hysterics at his friend’s joke. Ron seemed unable to hold back either, but Sarah allowed him a pass. She calmly put away her wand and ran a hand through her hair.   
  
“I’m sorry you have to deal with these two,” she said to Hermione, indicating Jeff and Michael, who were somehow still making strange noises that sounded like laughter. “They may be good for little things like fighting Dark Lords, but they’re painfully lacking in other ways.”   
  
“It’s fine,” Hermione said, with a slight smile. “I’ve gotten used to hearing rather similar things from my, alas, best friends.”   
  
Ron looked indignant, but Harry knew better than to contradict her. He merely shrugged and grinned around at them, surprised at how enjoyable he found the STRIKE agents.  
  
Sarah choose to mercifully return Michael and Jeff’s ability of speech about twenty minutes later after Jeff had tried to communicate that he was going to go to the bathroom, though without words. They spent the rest of the train ride trading stories and jokes, getting to know each other better. Michael was beginning to decide he liked all three of them – in particular Ron – when the train came to a stop.  
  
They gathered their belongings and exited the train. Michael heard a couple people inquire to Harry about himself and his friends, but Harry quickly brushed most of them aside. Michael knew their appearance would be noticed; new sixth year students weren’t common at any school. Hermione led them over to a fleet of carriages, all attached to a pair of ugly, skeletal horses. Jeff touched Sarah on the arm and gestured at them. Harry looked over at them.  
  
“So you can all see them?” he asked Michael, Jeff, and Sarah. “You’ve all seen someone…?”   
  
Michael looked at him almost pityingly. “We’re at war, Harry. I hope you never have to see anyone die again, but…well, like I said. We’re in a war. And whatever else I tell you all…killing people is a part of our jobs.”  
  
“So you're soldiers?” Ron asked.  
  
“Spies,” was Jeff’s grunted response.   
  
“But that’s why we’re here,” Sarah piped up. “We’re supposed to keep the school safe from, as you so eloquently put it, Jeff, jerk offs like Voldemort.” The group loaded their trunks into the carriages and climbed in. The Threstals immediately began the slow journey to the castle. Michael looked up at it with awe, he had never seen any building this large. He supposed STRIKE’s headquarters might be comparable, but it was hard to judge.  
  
“And find the Seven,” Michael reminded Sarah. “If Voldemort gets a hold of any of them, there won’t be anything we or Dumbledore or anyone else can do to stop him.”   
  
“Yeah,” she said flippantly, “but if we haven't found anymore, what are the odds he will?”   
  
“Yeah, I know. He’s only Lord Voldemort,” Jeff said sarcastically.   
  
“And we’re us,” she said confidently.  
  
“And you really think we have a chance?” Ron asked quickly.  
  
All three STRIKE agents smirked.   
  
“I do,” Michael said steadily. “You’ll see. In fact, you may do more than see….”   
  
Jeff raised an eyebrow. “You want to teach them?”   
  
“To,” Sarah made a quiet “ _whoooo_ ,” befuddling the Trio and greatly amusing Jeff.   
  
“Yeah, you think it’s a good idea? It’s not an easy trick to learn,” Michael inquired of the others.  
  
“We’ll learn,” Hermione said immediately. Jeff laughed.  
  
“They’re being hunted by Voldemort himself,” Sarah told him. “I think it’s a good idea actually. From three to six…the Death Eaters wouldn’t know what to do!” She looked more and more excited.  
  
“About what?” Ron asked a little suspiciously.   
  
“A certain ability the three of us worked a while for” Michael said. “Something the Death Eaters really, really don’t like to see. Took us a while, but I figure you could learn…hey, that a Knut?” he asked suddenly, bending down to grope around the floor as a carriage carrying a group of Ravenclaws passed by.   
  
“Oh, I guess we forgot Michael’s third job while we’re here,” Sarah said smugly to Jeff, who smirked down at him.   
  
“There’s no Knut down there, mate” he said. “But you might check around for your balls, which you seem to have lost.”   
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched the exchange with bewildered looks. Michael sat back up, looking disgruntled.   
  
“Michael and Voldemort have one thing in common,” Jeff explained. “Lady troubles.”   
  
“Lady  _trouble_ ” Sarah corrected him, while Michael flipped him the finger. “He’s only got trouble with one lady.”  
  
“Next time you two get cornered by Death Eaters and Werewolves” Michael muttered darkly, “call someone else.”   
  
Hermione seemed to have figured something out. “Michael?”  
  
“Humph?”  
  
“Why did you ask us about Luna Lovegood at Ron’s house when we first met?”   
  
“I’ve told you everything you wanted to know,” Michael said shortly. “I’d prefer to keep some things to myself.” Seeing the look on his face, Hermione seemed to decide he was right.


	11. Chapter 11: An Angry Demonstration of Magical Knowledge

The carriages finally came to a stop before the enormous doors leading to the Great Hall and the six teens jumped out; Harry took in the familiar sights with a smile, obviously glad to be back at the place he felt most at home. Michael, Jeff, and Sarah copied him: Michael was instantly impressed, though Jeff looked slightly apprehensive, and Sarah excited. He’d never seen a place like this – the States weren’t exactly littered with castles. Michael instantly had two questions: What kind of defenses did Dumbledore have in place on this massive school and how the hell they had worked indoor plumping into the ancient place.  
  
 Ron tapped him on the shoulder.   
  
“Hope you're hungry,” he told Michael enthusiastically. “The start of term feast is always good, more food than I've ever seen in one place.”   
  
“Can't you think of anything but food for once Ron?” Hermione asked disdainfully. “They probably want to look around first!” she said, gesturing at the other three.   
  
“Are you kidding?” Michael said, stunned. “I’m starving. Half the reason I agreed to come here was because Dumbledore told us the food was amazing. Ron can play tour guide along the way.”   
  
Hermione rolled her eyes as the four boys hurried into the Hall, Ron pointing out something to the new arrivals as they went. The two girls followed, and Sarah addressed Hermione in a low voice as several Hufflepuffs ran by.   
  
“I know this is your castle…” Sarah began. She slowed her walk and looked sideways at Hermione, her eyes narrowing dangerously as she held out an arm to slow Hermione. “But keep your hands off them. Understand?”  
  
Hermione stared blankly at the other girl, who didn’t flinch. They had reached the Great Hall and were now navigating their way to the long Gryffindor table. “I’m not interested,” Hermione assured her. “I just met – why are you laughing?”  
  
“I won a bet,” Sarah grinned. “I get Jeff’s Galleon. He thought you’d go right for them. I’ll split the Galleon with you for playing along.”  
  
Hermione flushed and bit her lip. “So you're not with either of them?”  
  
Sarah laughed again. “With them?” she repeated. “Really? Hermione, we both deserve standards.”   
  
“Well, the way Jeff was looking at you…” Hermione shrugged, now only looking at Sarah from the corner of her eyes.   
  
They joined the others at the table and conversation became nearly impossible over the commotion.  “Shut up,” Sarah shot at her. “Just because I don’t have Weasley after me….”   
  
“You know he didn’t realize I was a girl until our fourth year,” Hermione said with a sigh. The group was seated at the very back end of the table, with Michael and Jeff having no one but their companions around them.  
  
Harry and Ron were introducing Michael and Jeff to a few other sixth years including Neville Longbottom. Glancing over at the Slytherin table, she saw Draco Malfoy giving Michael and Jeff a look of unnatural hatred. Was it just that he had noticed two new Gryffindors, or was there something else?   
  
Hermione sat down next to Ron at the end, Sarah on her other side. She addressed Michael, who was on Ron’s left.   
  
“Have you already met Draco Malfoy?” she asked Michael, indicating Draco on the other side of the Hall.   
  
“Malfoy?” he said quietly, turning to look at him. “I’ve met his dad, but never him. Looks like his daddy’s been telling him stories though.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “This…complicates things. Ah well. Maybe he’ll be more pleasant than his dad.”  
  
“No…he hates Gryffindors and Muggleborns on principle too,” Hermione said coolly.  
  
“Well then, I can at least have some fun this year,” Michael muttered evilly. But Harry shook his head.   
  
“I wouldn’t count on it,” he warned “Not if you’re taking Potions.”   
  
“Why not?” Jeff asked him. “Me and Michael are taking the same classes as you and Ron, and Sarah’s going be with Hermione. We figured the gender split would be the least suspicious. You're not taking anything really hard, are you?” he added abruptly, looking worried.  
  
“That’s why,” said Ron, pointing over at the staff table, to the place on Dumbledore’s left. A man with dirty black hair sat there, looking scornfully down at the students. His stare was currently focused on the rambunctious Slytherin table.  
  
Michael dropped his gleeful smirk. “I know him. Or I know  _about_ him,” he corrected himself. “Some of my people keep telling me he’s a Death Eater. Then I have others saying he works for Dumbledore. I…have no idea. I've never ran across him out marauding in the night, so I guess that’s something.”   
  
Harry sighed rather loudly; Ron and Hermione looked at him. “You think he’s playing for the other team?” Sarah asked Harry.  
  
“He’s foul,” Harry said with disdain. “I….”  
  
“He’s a Death Eater,” Ron whispered with certainty. He nodded at the other three. “Maybe you can do something about that…?” He winked; Michael shook his head.   
  
“Undercover…” he reminded Ron. Then he looked seriously at Ron and Harry. “Unless he fails me on an exam. Then I’ll kill him myself, no questions asked.”  
  
“I think we should stop making jokes around Hermione,” Sarah said sympathetically as Hermione was unable to hide her gasp. “She doesn’t think they're very funny.”  
  
“You'll learn…” Ron said under his breath, making Michael, Jeff, and Harry laugh. Sarah stifled her snort only for her sole female friend’s sake.  
  
“You’ve faced Voldemort before, right?” Harry asked Michael, who nodded. “It takes a lot of the same skills to survive Snape’s Potions class.”   
  
Jeff started to say something, but stopped immediately as Dumbledore rose to speak. The entire Hall quieted in a matter of seconds. He looked around at them fatherly – or rather, grandfatherly.   
  
“For most, welcome back to Hogwarts and for our new friends, welcome! As I'm sure you are all malnourished and slowly wasting away, I’ll make my speech as short as my duty as Headmaster allows –”  
  
“He’s not going to say anything about us, is he?” Jeff whispered.  
  
“Nah, he knows we’re staying low,” Michael assured him. “We’re just a few transfer students from the US whose parents dragged us over here for the work in international magical relations….” He winked at Ron, for Harry and Hermione were paying more attention to Dumbledore’s speech than to his.  
  
“How about that?” Sarah was saying. She was looking down at her robes; Michael copied her. The lining of his robes had turned a deep scarlet.  
  
Ron hit Michael on the back. “Looks like you’re official now,” he said happily. “Just don’t count on getting too friendly with the Slytherins.”   
  
Michael glanced again at the Slytherin table, where the collective stares of several angry Slytherins had congealed into a single heavy glare aimed in his direction. “I don’t think I have to worry about that.”   
  
“I would also like to welcome Professor Slughorn back to Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on. A large wizard who Michael had somehow not noticed until now stood up and took a small bow as everyone applauded him politely, the Slytherins more enthusiastically. “Professor Slughorn was gracious enough to agree to return to teach Potions for a year.” All around the room, eyes were widening and people began whispering quickly to each other. “While Professor Snape will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.   
  
The Slytherin Table burst into applause, while the Gryffindors stared around at each other. Michael stared at Harry, waiting for some kind of explanation. “Well…Harry? What the hell is that about? Why is an ex-Death Eater teaching us how to fight Death Eaters? He  _was_ a Death Eater, right? I'm not crazy?”   
  
“Yeah, he was!” said Harry, who had not forgotten. “Why would Dumbledore –?”   
  
“I was under the impression you were all very hungry,” Dumbledore said from his place at the head of the Hall, his tone suddenly cool, although Severus Snape didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the reaction he received. “If you have any desire to eat tonight, it would be wise to allow me to finish my speech.”   
  
Silence once again fell immediately. Dumbledore looked around at them all, and then his face softened. “The only thing I have left to say to you is this: Be careful. We have extra protection this year, including an Auror guard,” Michael rolled his eyes scornfully, “and many new protective enchantments. Be that as it may, I cannot stress enough how important it is to be on the lookout for anything you find suspicious. Now that I've said my peace, let’s eat!”   
  
At the last word, plates and huge amounts of food appeared on the table before them. Michael looked up and down the table, unable to decide what to go for first. STRIKE fed its agents in a similar way, but like most things Michael had seen of Hogwarts so far, this was on a far grander scale. Ron and Jeff both said, “Finally,” and pulled equally enormous piles of food towards them.  
  
Michael finally decided on a large assortment of food, managing to fit about ten different kinds of food on his plate without the use of magic, which he personally thought was rather impressive. Sarah seemed to be having trouble keeping her dinner roll perched in place on top of the pile of ham that centered her plate. Scowling, she finally snatched it up and took a hard bite.  
  
“So what classes do we have tomorrow?” Michael asked Harry, slapping Ron casually on the back as he choked on the turkey leg that had found its way down his throat. Seeing this, Jeff immediately slowed his own intake a little.  
  
“No idea,” Harry said thickly, working on a bit of treacle tart. “Professor McGonagall will give us our class lists tomorrow.” Michael nodded silently. He returned his attention to his food, his mind beginning to drift as he ran through the job assigned to him once more. It was only when he had finished off the chicken on his plate and Ron tapped him on the shoulder that he returned to the world.  
  
“Neville’s talking to you,” Ron told him, indicating the boy sitting a spot down from them. Michael stared for a moment.  
  
“Oh.” He shook his head rapidly and smiled. “Sorry, taking in the new school. What’s up?”  
  
The boy stumbled through his opening question, but apart from that faux pas he seemed very pleasant. Michael learned over the course of dinner he was good friends with Harry and his friends, as well as a good student of Herbology. As Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan joined in on the conversation, Michael's thoughts began to wander again.  
  
It wasn’t often he got jobs like this and the more he thought about it, the more he agreed with what Sarah had said earlier. This really wasn’t a bad job at all. His espionage was usually more in the realm of obtaining information on people, then killing or arresting them. This was something different. Sure, he was still after the Seven and there was certainly a threat Voldemort might make a move, but for now…he could just be seventeen. He could talk casually with people his own age, without also debating the best way to kill them. Michael liked that.  
  
But as his mind drifted from the conversation, so did his eyes. He looked over at the Hufflepuffs, clad in yellow lined robes and calling out to friends at other tables around the Hall, past the Slytherins, a few of whom he recognized as the children of Death Eaters, and finally settled his eyes on the Ravenclaw table. Michael's heart began to beat faster as he took note of faces. The Great Hall really was huge, and with the Ravenclaws seated on the far side of it, it was impossible to distinguish much more about any one person than hair color. Michael sighed, shook his head, swallowed his heart, and returned to conversation with Neville.  
  
After dinner was finished, everyone got up from their tables and attempted to head up to their House common rooms. However, everyone attempting to leave the Hall through two different doors, the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs going one way and the Ravenclaws and Slytherins another, resulted in a massive clog which took the teachers and Prefects, including Ron and Hermione, a while to resolve. Michael thought that was a little odd – why had Dumbledore made Ron a Prefect over Harry? Everything Michael had seen of Harry so far only confirmed his suspicions about the other boy. He was a capable, intelligent young man, similar to himself in some ways, but with one major difference.  
  
Harry led Michael, Jeff, and Sarah up the moving staircases, through the Fat Lady’s portrait at the mention of  _Blast Ended Hippogriff_ , and into the Gryffindor common room. Harry pointed towards the girls’ dorm and Sarah vanished into it after wishing them good night, then accompanied Michael and Jeff up to the boys’.   
  
The dorm had been magically enlarged to fit Michael and Jeff, so that they, Harry, Ron, Neville, Dean, and Seamus could all fit comfortably. Michael struck up a conversation with the pair of Dean and Seamus, who bought his parents-in-government story without much question. Dean questioned him about Muggle sports, something Michael was woefully ignorant of. After shaking his head sadly, Dean left him alone, but seemed all right.  
  
Michael changed into his nightclothes, lay down on his bed with his hands behind his head, and shut his eyes. It was painful, being here. In many ways this was one of the best jobs he had ever had with STRIKE: He had a safe home, good food, mostly friendly company, and a passive primary mission. Michael's stomach churned unhappily. This wasn’t going to work.  
  
He got back to his feet and stepped over to the small window that overlooked the castle courtyard. Michael wasn’t interested in what was below him; he stared straight ahead, across the grounds, to Ravenclaw tower. He narrowed his eyes slightly as focused his mind for Legilmency, searching outward, towards the tower. He sighed and his head sagged a little; he was certainly a powerful Wizard, but never put much thought into the theory behind the magic he commanded. Without that basic understanding, it was impossible for him to manipulate his mental magic to do anything more than search the thoughts of someone near him, although that he could do very efficiently.  
  
“You all right?”  
  
Michael jumped. Jeff was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking at him. He wasn’t the only one – Dean and Seamus were watching him curiously. Ron and Harry frowned at each other; only Neville missed this, as he was in the bathroom.  
  
“Yeah,” Michael said quietly. “Just…a little overwhelmed. Being in a new school,” he added more loudly. “Leaving the people you care about behind is hard.”  
  
“You could take a Portkey back sometime,” Neville suggested, emerging from the restroom. “You can go back home. But I think you'll like it here.”  
  
Jeff nodded without saying anything, then fell back and rolled over. “Night,” he muttered to the room in general. Michael was considering what Neville had said and did not hear Jeff. He smiled at Neville, turned from the window, and returned to his bed. He was asleep within minutes.   
  
The boys woke the next morning and dressed quickly, as they needed to be at breakfast early to get their class schedules. They met Hermione and Sarah at the portrait hole and the six teens navigated their way down to the Great Hall again.   
  
After a quick breakfast of bacon and eggs, the Gryffindors lined up in front of Professor McGonagall to confirm the classes they would be taking. When she gave Michael his list she also gave him an appraising look, but no other indication he was anything but a new student. Michael supposed Dumbledore must’ve told her who he really was and what he was there for. This verified STRIKE’s suspicion she was a member of the Order of the Phoenix…he’d report that later.  
  
Michael, Jeff, Harry, and Ron stood in a group near the staff table examining the sheet of paper they were all holding a copy of. Ron’s face lit up as he looked closely.   
  
“Hey, we’ve got free periods this year!” he said excitedly. “Time to relax, do whatever we want….”  
  
“I don’t know, we’ll probably need the time to study,” Harry said doubtfully.   
  
Jeff chuckled at that and shook his head, but didn’t comment. Harry raised his eyebrows at him.  
  
“Right, let’s see…Defense first with Snape and the Slytherins. Who’s he to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts anyway?” Harry said indignantly.   
  
“We’ll see I guess,” Michael shrugged. “Maybe his experience with the Dark Arts will be   helpful? Or he’ll just try to teach ineffective spells, the filthy Death Eater,” he added after Harry glared at him.   
  
They reached the Defense classroom a few minutes later, where there was already a mixed group of Gryffindors and Slytherins waiting. Mixed as in both were waiting for Snape to let them in, not physically close. Both groups were avoiding each other as if the other had a deadly contagious disease.   
  
Harry and Ron blended into the Gryffindors immediately and Michael and Jeff followed their lead. Michael shifted his weight on each foot as he stood silently. Jeff looked bored next to him, then cast a glance over at the Slytherins. A small smirk began to form on his face and Michael knew what was coming.  
  
“You should introduce yourself,” he said out of the corner of his mouth.  
  
“It is a bit awkward knowing their parents, but not them,” Michael said thoughtfully. “Thoughts?” he asked Ron and Harry. Ron grinned widely and nodded, Harry gave Michael a smaller encouragement under Hermione’s glare, but it was enough for him.   
  
“You're really good at this undercover thing, aren’t you?” Sarah asked quietly. But she too smiled at Michael.  
  
“I can be undercover as a rule-breaking rebel, can't I?” Michael replied, just as rhetorically. He gave the group a thumbs up, let his arms fall to his sides, and sauntered into the no-man’s-land between Gryffindor and Slytherin. He quickly found the blonde head he was looking for and took a step closer. Without him noticing, Harry followed slightly behind, his hand in his pocket.  
  
“Hi,” he said pleasantly, plastering on the least authentic smile he could. “I'm Michael Jacobs, me and my friends just transferred here.” He extended his right hand. Draco Malfoy stared at it.  
  
“What do you think you're doing?” he asked slowly.  
  
“Making friends,” Michael replied, his shit-eating grin growing larger. He gestured at Draco with his still extended hand. Slytherins all around had been staring since Michael walked over and though he couldn’t see them, he knew the Gryffindors behind him were doing the same.  
  
“I know who you are,” Malfoy whispered. Michael wasn’t sure he had seen anyone look this angry in a while, especially not during a formal introduction. He then wondered if a career battling his father and aunt counted as previous introduction or not.  
  
“Well of course you do,” Michael said easily. He gestured a third time at Draco. “I just introduced myself.” Behind him, he recognized a loud laugh as Sarah’s, as well as some other chuckles.  
  
It was this that broke Draco’s tolerance; one of his hands slapped away Michael's extended one, the other moved to his pocket. He withdrew his wand and aimed it straight at Michael's face, only to find Michael's close enough to his own he risked damage from it being shoved up his nose as well as from a curse. Michael moved a step closer, so they were almost face to face.  
  
“Well then,” he breathed in Draco’s ear, quietly enough so that no one else could hear them, “what are you going to do about it? If I am who you think I am, you know I have experience with curses that will turn you  _inside out_. So,” Michael said, taking a step back, “let’s just assume I'm a new student. For both our sakes.”  
  
“What is this?”  
  
Draco’s expression changed completely. He smirked at Michael – as if he had won – and put his wand away. Michael turned his back to Malfoy and found himself in the rather furious stare of a man he had occasionally seen pictures of. Severus Snape appeared just as pleasant in person as Michael's reports of the enigmatic man had suggested.  
  
Everyone, Gryffindor and Slytherin alike, had frozen. Michael sighed; he had allowed the joke to go too far. He slid his wand back into his pocket and locked eyes with Snape. “Just a misunderstanding…I'm sorry sir. I'm excited to see what Hogwarts has to teach about Defense.” He pulled on a smile more genuine than the previous, though it only lasted as long as it took for Snape to bare his teeth at him.  
  
“Get in my classroom,” Snape seethed. “I don't know where you came from, but at Hogwarts, fools are looked down upon. Keep that in mind.” Over Snape’s shoulder, the Hogwarts Trio were all giving him looks that plainly told him to drop it. Michael hadn’t realized Harry was backing him up when he approached Malfoy. That disappointed him a little – he was sure together the two of them could’ve handled at least five or so Slytherins.  
  
“Yes sir.”  
  
The Gryffindors hurried in, all trying, most failing, to suppress their laughter. While the Slytherins followed, looking annoyed that Snape hadn’t done more than reprimand Michael.   
  
The six Gryffindors took the four seats in the back left corner and dropped their books. Many of the students gave Michael looks that clearly meant they were impressed as they passed by. Jeff grinned at everyone and accepted a few incidental high fives, but Michael at least pretended not to notice.   
  
“That was amazing!” Ron whispered to him, after checking to make sure Snape was out of earshot.  
  
“At least I’ve figured out why you’re in Gryffindor,” Hermione said. “You’ve certainly got courage. Maybe too much…”   
  
“Come on, Hermione,” Michael said disbelievingly, “tell me with a straight face that wasn’t funny. Though…probably not something I should repeat,” he added, earning a nod of agreement from Sarah.   
  
“If you would all like to learn anything,” Snape snarled from the front of the class, “then I would recommend you pay attention. Failure to do so will result in…consequences.” He stared at the six in the back. Michael, not wishing any more trouble, avoided his gaze, but Harry and Jeff stared right back at him.   
  
Snape launched into a long speech on the Dark Arts and it’s many forms. Michael actually thought it was rather good, and even Jeff was paying attention. Harry seemed to have a different attitude though, and was glaring at Snape with as much dislike as ever.   
  
“And that” Snape finished, “is why the Dark Arts can never truly be defeated.”   
  
Harry opened his mouth to tell Snape he was wrong, but Michael beat him to it. Jeff was watching his friend, though he was no longer smiling.   
  
“Do you really believe that, sir?” Michael asked, obviously fighting to keep his voice level. “That the Dark Arts can't be stopped?”   
  
“I do not allow students to contradict me Jacobs!” he spat. As quickly as he had lashed out, Snape recollected himself. “But yes, it is impossible to truly destroy the darkness, if that is what you want.”   
  
“Not if you screw around with it,” he shot at Snape, ignoring the looks he was getting. “But if you set your mind to it, it’s not impossible at all. Difficult yes, impossible no.”   
  
Snape looked like he might curse Michael on the spot, but somehow turned his look of rage into a sneer. Sarah whispered an urgent “ _Shut up_!” in Michael's ear. He ignored her as well.  
  
“And how do you ‘set your mind to it?’” Snape asked. “Help the needy? Feed the hungry?”   
  
“No. You simply refuse to allow evil to exist. First you take care of your own heart and soul, then you see to those around you.”   
  
“I must admit, I am surprised” Snape said, eyebrows raised. “I had you pegged as another idealistic Gryffindor, unable to handle any real business. But then, you have the gall to speak to me of, in your words “stopping the darkness” or in other words, exterminating Dark Wizards.”   
  
“Only if no other option is possible,” Michael replied steadily. When you can't make them see the light, make them feel the heat.”   
  
“So basically, you wish to become an Auror,” Snape sneered. “Is that what you're going to do here?”  
  
“ _Fuck_.” Sarah’s whisper was louder this time. She blushed, but Jeff shook his head at her. He seemed as concerned as she was. Hermione looked embarrassed; Ron and Harry stared at Michael.  
  
“No,” Michael said. He ground his teeth in between sentences. “No, I don't want to be an Auror. I actually want to help the war against Voldemort.”   
  
“Help?” Snape repeated softly, looking slightly interested. He stared into Michael’s eyes and Michael felt something move within his consciousness. Memories and thoughts and feelings in no way relevant to a Defense Against the Dark Arts class began to swirl in his head. Michael shook his head a little to each side, then shut his eyes, breaking contact with Snape.  
  
“Hell no,” Michael thought angrily. His mind began to wad up every thought and memory that shouldn’t be there, throwing them around his head, far too chaotic to make sense of. He opened his eyes again and saw Snape had turned his back to him. Michael gave Harry an irritable look and raised his eyebrows.  
  
“You didn’t tell me the suspicious Defense professor is a Legilimens?” Michael said through his teeth, very aware the rest of the class had split their attention between himself and Snape. Harry opened his mouth but Michael stopped him with a jerk of his head. “It’s fine. He didn’t see much.” He turned away from Harry, folded his arms, and felt very proud of his Occlumency skills.   
  
“Where did you come from, Jacobs?” Snape asked, his back still turned. Jeff’s hands were restlessly drumming on his legs; he knew as well as Michael this attention was the last thing they needed.  
  
“Salem Memorial,” Michael answered him. Snape turned around and finally looked at Michael again. There was no mental exchange this time.  
  
“What kind of spells did they teach you in Salem?” he asked quietly. “Defensive spells?”   
  
Michael was not amused by Snape’s attempted intrusion into his thoughts and memories. Certain things he knew – he remembered – could be devastating if they were revealed here at Hogwarts. The politeness in his voice no longer fooled anyone.   
  
“All different kinds” he said. “Mostly hexes and counter-jinxes.”   
  
“And what about curses?” Snape whispered. “Is there anyone like Mad Eye Moody over there? Teaching you the Unforgivable Curses?”   
  
Michael refused to back down, despite Hermione’s will almost physically pulling on him. “You seem very interested, Professor. Are you perhaps thinking of taking a job at Salem?”   
  
“I am simply curious as to how advanced I can expect you and your…friends to be. I’m willing to speak slowly if it is necessary.”  
  
The fact that Michael smiled at this did nothing to melt the freezing atmosphere projected due to the exchange between the two Wizards. “Well, sir,” he said with as much courteousness as he could muster, “there’s an easy way to find out.”   
  
A pin drop would have sounded like a gunshot in the silence that followed. Nobody knew what to say, even Jeff, who had known Michael for years, was staring with his mouth slightly opened. No student had ever come close to challenging a teacher before, least of all Severus Snape.   
  
“Are you challenging me to a duel, Mr. Jacobs?” Snape whispered.   
  
“No sir. I'm asking for a demonstration.”   
  
Snape stared at him for a long time, but Michael knew he wouldn’t attempt Legilmency again. Michael had the impression Snape was trying to decide if he was bluffing or not. Finally, he smiled, showing his yellow teeth. Michael glanced at his friends; despite only knowing him a few days, he could safely say he had never seen Ron look so happy.  
  
“Very well, Mr. Jacobs. You have a chance to make your old teachers proud. Come up to the front of the class, and show me what  _your kind_ are capable of.”   
  
“Yes, Professor,” he said, standing up and shoving his chair aside. His crossed to the front of the class briskly, where Snape was using his wand to move his desk and other things out of the way, to give them an appropriate amount of space.   
  
They stood with their backs up against opposites walls, sizing each other up. Apparently satisfied, Snape negotiated the rules.   
  
“So Mr. Jacobs, what would you like allowed and disallowed in this…demonstration? If you need me to only use my left arm, I’m sure that could be arranged,” he sneered.   
  
Michael had drawn his wand and was flexing his arm, not paying Snape any attention. He started twisting his wand in his hand when he looked up.   
  
“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll be okay. But as for bans…no Unforgivables, obviously…no major curses period…that’s standard practice, isn’t it?”   
  
“So be it,” said Snape. “Would you prefer to put up dueling protection, or should I?”   
  
Michael’s mouth twitched to half a smile. “Demonstration protection,” he reminded him. “And I’ll do it.  _Protego Dularis_!”   
  
He waved his wand, and a translucent cube formed around Michael and Severus. Its borders extended the width of the classroom, to the wall opposite the door, and right up to the first row of desks, all of whom hastily scooted backwards.   
  
Michael had no idea what to expect or what he had gotten himself into. He wasn’t particularly worried about being outclassed or losing in an embarrassing way – he had been made a Captain for a reason – but as he looked around he felt guilt. He was basically taking every chance available to make himself conspicuous and combative. The look on Hermione and Sarah’s faces told him as much. Harry, however, looked extremely interested. Michael was aware Snape had made Harry’s life hell for years, he supposed Harry was hoping to see the professor take a curse to the face for it.   
  
Ron’s expression was similar to Harry’s: Eager anticipation, with a tiny amount of trepidation. Jeff’s face however, plainly told who he believed would win this contest.   
  
“Sarah, don't look like that,” Jeff admonished her. “You know this is amazing –”  
  
“And a terrible idea.”  
  
“Well, yeah,” Jeff agreed. “Of course it’s a totally stupid idea. But it’s happening, so enjoy it!”  
  
“He’s treated us all like rubbish for years,” Ron assured her. Harry nodded agreement. Both boys looked at Hermione, who sagged her head a little, then nodded as well.  
  
“You a betting man Weasley?” Jeff asked. “I've got two Galleons that say Michael wins in under a minute.”   
  
“No thanks,” Ron said uncomfortably. “I’ll keep my gold in my pocket.” Looking slightly disappointed, but not entirely surprised, Jeff turned to Harry.   
  
“How about you Harry? Fancy losing a couple Galleons?” Harry shook his head. “Ah well…let’s watch.”   
  
“So we bow right?” Michael was saying. Snape nodded and both bent slightly, though both kept their faces upturned to watch the other. “On my count of three then. One, two, THREE!”   
  
Neither spoke a word, but twin jets of red met in the air. Michael and Snape’s wand cut complicated motions through the air sending not only different colored streaks of light but also balls, tiny triangles and something like ribbons at each other.   
  
Snape was standing his ground with a fierce look, while Michael kept moving, trying to find a way under Severus’ guard. Since neither had called the name of the spell they used, the class was having a hard time keeping up with the action. And as none of the spells had yet hit either combatant, he couldn’t tell their intent either.   
  
The two seemed evenly matched and for a long while, they bobbed and weaved, blocked and parried. Michael felt a constant sense of control, though, admittedly, there were a few times Michael was certain Snape was about to floor him, only for him to parry the curse at the last second.  
  
Finally, Michael aimed a Stunner at Snape's feet, causing him to stumble as he jumped backwards to avoid the spell. He followed with a Jelly Legs Jinx which took Snape to the ground. As he fell Snape waved his wand wildly. At first Michael thought the spell had not worked, as no wave of light nor any other visible effects issued from his wand.   
  
Then his face, which had just acquired a look of satisfaction, drained of all color. Michael and everyone else in the room looked with horror at the x-shaped cut across his own chest. Snape's face showed shock, fear, and something else unreadable. Then it was wiped completely blank as Michael’s last Stunning Spell hit him in the chest as Michael fell to his knees, then flat on his face.   
  
The entire class surged forward, crowding either Michael in the case of the Gryffindors or Snape if you were Slytherin. Harry kneeled down next to Michael and he rolled him onto his back. He appeared to be unconscious and was still losing blood rapidly.   
  
“Someone get Madame Pomfrey!” Parvati Patil shrieked.   
  
“I’ll go!”   
  
Someone ran out the door, already calling for the Healer. Harry looked around hopelessly at his peers. As sixth years none of them had any idea how to heal wound anywhere near this serious. Harry knew there was only one way Michael would survive the wait for Madame Pomfrey.   
  
He jumped up and shoved several large Slytherins out of the way to stand near Snape, who had just been revived. The seriousness of the situation was evident in that when Harry roughly grabbed him by the neck of his robes and dragged him to his feet, he did nothing to resist or retaliate.   
  
“Fix him!” he snarled. “You did this! If you don’t hurry, you'll have killed him too! ” He threw Snape, who looked down on Michael. Harry couldn’t read his expression.  
  
“My wand!” he said hoarsely. “I need my wand.” Pansy Parkinson rushed to him, holding out his wand. He took it with a shaking hand.   
  
“ _Resarcio_ ” he said clearly, tracing the wounds on Michael’s torso. The bleeding slowed, but did not stop completely. Looking horrified, Snape repeated the spell. The bleeding finally ceased and Snape sighed. He stood up as Madame Pomfrey hurried inside followed by Dean Thomas.   
  
“Oh my God!” she cried, seeing a student lying on the floor, covered in blood. “What happened?” She rushed over to Michael and checked for a pulse. Finding one, she began to mutter spells over him, causing the freshly healed wounds to fade to slightly white lines on his chest.   
  
Snape stared to explain, but Jeff cut him off. He was looking down at Michael with an expression of the deepest loathing, though Harry knew it was directed at Snape.   
  
“Professor Snape used some kind of curse on our friend,” he told her. “It sliced him up pretty bad, will he be okay?”   
  
“I think so,” she said. “But he’s lost so much blood…I don’t think he’ll be conscious for some time. Please, if you could help me get him to the hospital wing.”   
  
Jeff nodded quickly and drew his wand. He pointed it at Michael and said, “ _Locomotor Mortis_!”   
  
Michael hovered a few feet above the ground, stiff as a board. Jeff carefully maneuvered him out of the classroom, past the onlookers, and down the hall after Madame Pomfrey. On the way they passed Albus Dumbledore, who looked as pale as Michael and as furious as Jeff, striding quickly towards the Defense classroom, where Professor Snape remained standing in the same spot, surrounded by his students.


	12. Chapter 12: Smile in Your Sleep

“So you really think Snape meant to use that curse?”   
  
“How could it have been an accident?”   
  
“Like you said, it happened as he fell! Maybe it was just the wand movement!”   
  
“Yeah, right….”   
  
Michael groaned and opened his eyes. He was lying in a bed in what he assumed to be the hospital wing, surrounded by a number of people. He rubbed his eyes and looked down at himself. The sheet was up to his armpits, and pulling it down to his waist, he saw that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. There were two faint lines that intersected right above his naval. An orange, fading light was coming in through an open window. It seemed to be evening.   
  
“Ah you are awake, Mr. Jacobs,” said Dumbledore, who was standing on his left along with Jeff, Sarah, and Hermione. Harry and Ron were on his other side.   
  
“Michael!” Sarah cried, immediately being shushed by Madame Pomfrey, who had just appeared holding a bottle of red liquid. “Are you okay?” she asked, much more quietly. “What happened?”   
  
“You know what happened,” Jeff said fiercely. “Snape tried to kill him!”   
  
“Before we make any judgments, Mr. Allero, I’d like to know what Michael thinks,” Dumbledore said quietly. Harry crossed his arms across from Dumbledore.  
  
“Before we do  _anything_ ,” Pomfrey said shortly, “you need to take more of this, Mr. Jacobs.” She handed him the bottle. “Make sure to drink it all.”   
  
“What is it?” Michael asked, uncorking the bottle and sniffing it. “And what do you mean more? How long have I been out?”   
  
“It’s a Blood Replenishing Potion,” she said patiently. “And we've had to pour it down your throat for the majority of the day, since you were injured.”   
  
Michael threw back his head and downed the potion. After all his injuries, he had gradually grown used to the taste and effects of the potion, yet it was still not a pleasant experience. It was awful, and he nearly gagged. “I've been unconscious all day?” he choked. “What happened to Snape?”   
  
“Before we get to that,” Dumbledore said again, “I would very much like to hear your side of the story, Michael.” Pomfrey hurried away as a Seventh Year Ravenclaw stumbled in, having grown an unnaturally large amount of extra noses.   
  
“Well, me and Snape had a bit of an argument and it turned into…” Michael trailed off, trying to remember the word he used.   
  
“A duel?” suggested Dumbledore.   
  
“No, I made sure that was clear. It was more of an…an angry demonstration of magical skill.”   
  
Dumbledore smiled very slightly, but his eyes remained totally serious. “So what happened in this...demonstration then?”   
  
“Well we were exchanging spells, and I caught him with Jelly Legs. When his legs gave out and he fell, he kind of flailed around. I guess whatever he did with his arm was the movement for the curse I got hit with.”   
  
Dumbledore studied Michael for a moment.  
  
“I have one more question for you Michael. This is a very serious matter, and before I ask, I think it is important you know what has happened.” He sighed deeply, looking ancient. “Everyone present knows that Professor Snape was once a Death Eater in the employ of Lord Voldemort. Because of this, and of the dark nature of the spell used, he has been taken into custody. He is currently incarcerated in a cell in Azkaban. Michael I must ask you, do you believe Professor Snape intended to use this particular spell on you?”   
  
Michael said nothing, thinking hard. Everyone was staring at him with looks of apprehension and anticipation. He raised himself into a sitting position, causing the scars to whiten. Had Snape meant to kill him? Who had the better picture of Severus Snape – Dumbledore, who trusted him explicitly, or Harry, who seemed ready and willing to name Snape a Death Eater himself?  
  
“No, I don’t think he meant to use that spell,” he said finally. “How exactly it happened I don’t know, but somehow I have a feeling that it was an accident.”   
  
“But how can you be sure?” Jeff asked incredulously. “You can't read his mind, can you?”   
  
Michael stared at him for a long moment, and Michael debated the validity of that statement. “No, you’re right Jeff. I can't read his mind. But even if he had meant to kill or maim me with that curse, why didn’t he finish me? Why would he try it surrounded by witnesses? No, too many things point to this being an accident.”   
  
“Unless Voldemort wants you dead that badly…” Harry muttered under his breath.  
  
Dumbledore smiled. “I quite agree with you Michael. While your injuries are most unfortunate, I do not believe they were intentional. If you could just sign a statement confirming this, I could have Severus released and back at Hogwarts within the day.”   
  
Dumbledore handed him an official looking sheet of paper and a quill dipped in Endless Ink. Michael took it with a glance at Harry. Both he and Ron were frantically shaking their heads no.   
  
“Out of curiosity, if Snape didn’t come back, who would be his replacement?” he asked, appearing to study the statement closely.   
  
“Most likely the Ministry would send a replacement,” Dumbledore said thoughtfully. “Perhaps a disciple of Dolores Umbridge.”   
  
All through last year, STRIKE had been treated to stories of Dolores Umbridge’s tyranny at Hogwarts. Michael would not allow anything similar to happen again, least of all while he was a student at the school.   
  
“If you at all doubt Severus’ innocence, I urge you not to sign the paper,” Dumbledore told him. “Of course, without a statement from you an investigation could take weeks. But I’m sure that Rufus would be only too happy to supply us with a replacement.”   
  
“No doubt about that at least,” Michael muttered, signing his slightly sloppy name on the dotted line at the bottom of the paper.   
  
“Thank you very much,” Dumbledore said, taking the paper back from him and vanishing it. “I don’t know how you’re feeling but…”   
  
“I feel fine,” Michael said immediately.   
  
Sarah sighed. “You always feel fine. And there’s no point acting tough either, is there?” she asked Dumbledore.   
  
“No I'm afraid not. Madame Pomfrey has dictated that you will remain here overnight at the very least. If at that point you feel up to going to class, or have other urgent business to attend to you may leave.”   
  
Normally Michael would have argued with the old man on this, but he felt that after basically picking a fight with his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, he should just sit back and try to enjoy the rest.   
  
“Fine, I’ll stay,” Michael said resentfully. “But I want credit for all the classes I missed today.”   
  
Dumbledore chuckled. “If you wish. But surely you’ve realized…I really don’t care what kind of grades you make in your subjects. I would prefer if you would refrain from becoming locked in single combat with any of my other teachers, but as far as classes go…its wholly irrelevant to your job. Which I must say, despite the excellent things I've heard about you, you could do much better at if you didn’t make a point to fight every person in Slytherin house.”  
  
His tone was light, but his gaze felt incredibly heavy on Michael.  
  
“It won’t happen again,” Michael promised. “I'm sorry I betrayed your trust.”  
  
“Severus Snape has made a habit of finding out precisely what angers a person most, then acting on that discovery,” Dumbledore said. He adjusted his spectacles. “Obviously, it did not mix well with what I gather to be the rather short temper you possess. I trust you have gotten this out of your system and you will continue to aid in the school’s protection in a more discreet way.”  
  
“Yes sir,” Michael said, feely highly embarrassed now. It had been a full year since he had been in a school. Being reprimanded by a teacher was somehow worse than being written up by the Head Auror or having General Staffon threaten to demote him.  
  
“I do have to get going,” Dumbledore said. He smiled kindly at Michael, which Michael found made him feel better than it should. “I’ll take these papers straight to the Ministry, to Scrimgeour himself if I have to. Good day to you all.” He waved goodbye and swept out the door.   
  
Sarah watched Dumbledore leave, then swirled around and glared down at Michael. “You  _fucking_ idiot,” she seethed. “Why in God’s name did you think that was a good idea?”  
  
“I knew it wasn’t,” Michael said weakly. Sarah buried her face in her hands and turned away in fury. Now Hermione took her turn.  
  
“You are the worst spy I have ever seen,” she whispered at him.  
  
“I'm not a spy,” Michael countered defensively. He didn’t like the sound of that word.  
  
“Well then what are you?” Hermione demanded.  
  
“The Captain of STRIKE’s special forces,” Michael replied defiantly.  
  
“The Captain who gets peer pressured into fighting a teacher while undercover?”  
  
“I…wasn’t exactly promoted to Captain for my subtly,” Michael admitted, as everyone else tried not to laugh at Hermione’s remark. He rubbed the back of his neck. “It was more about my dueling skills –  _which you can't deny now_ – and the fact that our last Captain and his second and third in command were all wiped out by Voldemort.”  
  
“That's not all you were promoted for,” Jeff said seriously. He was looking hard at Michael. “Your tactics – if not subtle – are effective. I know what you were doing,” he finished shortly.  
  
Michael frowned at his best friend. “What was I doing?”  
  
“You want to get noticed,” Jeff sighed. The other four were watching him, trying to figure him out. Michael's face burned.  
  
“I'm not  _trying_ to blow our cover,” Michael snapped.  
  
“I know,” Jeff said. “But you still wanted to be noticed. Michael…is this really that hard on you?”  
  
Sarah’s face lit up with understanding, though the Trio remained in the dark. Michael, meanwhile, was feeling a stronger and stronger urge to punch Jeff. But in balance with this desire was a need to speak; Jeff seemed to understand.  
  
“I…I don't want to be the one to make the choice for her,” he said slowly, to his own hands. “I don't want to go looking….If she comes to me…its different.”  
  
“No,” Hermione said sadly, “it’s not.” She paused and looked at Ron and Harry. She opened her mouth but Michael, knowing exactly what she was about to say, preempted her.  
  
“I’ll handle it,” he said repressively. He gave Jeff a look that was near begging. Thankfully, his friend picked up on the hint.  
  
“Listen, we gotta go,” Jeff told him. “It’s time for dinner, and thanks to you, if anyone tries to kill somebody, I’ll have to deal with it alone.”   
  
“Ahem,” Sarah coughed indignantly, “I'm here too you know!”   
  
“Yeah, but I have to handle it to impress you,” he shot back. “Now if it turns out another teacher is a bloodthirsty murderer, it’s my problem!”   
  
“I thought we agreed he wasn’t trying to kill me,” Michael said crossly. Sarah had returned her face to her hands. “And where’s my wand?”   
  
“Right here” Harry said, handing it to him. “I picked it up after you got hurt. I've never seen one like this, what is it?”   
  
“That’s not very surprising,” Michael said proudly, “The core’s Werewolf hair, and the wand itself is from a California Redwood. Really durable, pretty rare too.”   
  
“Did you say the core is Werewolf hair?” Hermione asked, shocked. “But doesn’t that make for really unstable wands?”   
  
“Only in the wrong hands,” Michael assured her. “As long as the wand respects you, you'll be fine.”   
  
“Respects you?” Ron repeated.  
  
“Or something like that,” Michael shrugged. “I don't really get all that wandlore stuff, but from what I understand, since the wand chose me, it’ll work better for me than anyone else.”  
  
“We’ll come by later,” Harry told him. Michael nodded gratefully.  
  
They all left to eat and Michael lay back against the bed. He was bored within seconds – what was he supposed to do for an entire day?   
  
Remembering that his mission at Hogwarts did not exempt him from his duty as a STRIKE Captain, he groaned and waved his wand. A stack of papers appeared and fell onto his chest. Marveling at the fact that he didn’t have an assistant or secretary to do this, he took the topmost paper and began reading the most recent STRIKE report, this one detailing Voldemort’s presence abroad. Considering he wasn’t actively participating in his leadership role at the moment, Michael felt little guilt about scanning the papers half-heartedly. It was accepted he wouldn’t be able to manage the day-to-day operations of his division from Hogwarts and one the older, more experienced Special Forces members had volunteered to take over for him. The reports were mostly standard fare anyway, apart from one suggesting Voldemort had Death Eaters operating in the Caribbean. That struck Michael as very odd; Voldemort had by and large stayed in his own hemisphere. What would he want in the middle of the ocean?  
  
Harry, Jeff, and Ron came to visit him a few hours later. Sarah and Hermione came an hour after the boys. Gender compatibility had already set it, it seemed. Michael soon learned that there was a rumor around school that Michael and Snape were working for opposite sides of secret agencies, and that they had been contracted to kill each other. This made Michael laugh, but Sarah found no humor in it.   
  
“But we  _are_  with a secret agency,” she said in a low voice, sounding worried. “What if someone knows? What if they know why we’re here?”   
  
“Okay fine, we are with STRIKE, but that’s the only anything close to true. We weren’t hired to kill him, and I don’t think he wants to kill me either. It was probably just some Slytherin trying to be funny.”   
  
“But still…”   
  
She and Hermione left and went to work on Charms homework with the boys – or at least, Hermione did. Michael reluctantly returned to his paperwork. He had hoped his friends would visit again, but when they did not, he was forced to accept that it was late and they had likely gone to bed for the night.   
  
He was the only one occupying a bed in the hospital wing, so that he didn’t even have strangers to talk to. It was around ten and he had just dimmed his wand and vanished the last report. He rolled over on his side, facing Pomfrey’s office, opposite the door. He yawned widely and closed his eyes, when the door creaked open, spilling weak light into the infirmary.   
  
Wondering how someone had gotten hurt at this time of night, he rolled onto his other side to get a look at the person who entered. The door shut carefully and the room was returned to darkness, and all he could see was a female form stepping inside.   
  
Whatever the girl’s problem was, Michael decided it was none of his business and turned back over to go to sleep. He expected to hear a knock on the door of the matron’s office and an explanation as to why she needed help. However, there was no knock. In fact the girl seemed to be going to great lengths not to be heard.   
  
In fact, even when Michael listened hard, he couldn’t hear footsteps. This struck him as odd: He was a highly trained STRIKE agent, one of the best, and he couldn’t detect some student? Was it possible Sarah had been right, did someone know their secret? Was this an enemy?   
  
Trying to move as little as possible, Michael extracted his wand, keeping his back turned to where he assumed the girl was. He expected he was just being paranoid, why would a girl be sneaking into his room at night? To kill him? That wasn’t usually what they wanted….   
  
What he didn’t expect was to he feel a soft hand on his shoulder and a voice whisper his name.   
  
“Hello?”   
  
He turned his gasp into a sharp intake of breath. He knew that voice. How couldn’t he? Michael's wasn’t sure what the qualifying line was for a dangerous heartbeat, but he guessed that his chest feeling like someone turned an oscillating fan on inside it was somewhat telltale. Michael took several deep breaths, his eyes tightly shut. His head filled with thoughts just as it had when he had blocked Snape from reading his mind, only this time there was no control possible.  
  
“Are you all right?”  
  
Michael's eyes opened. He discreetly put down his wand and pushed himself into a sitting position. Even in the dark, her huge blue eyes seemed luminescent as she looked down at him, obviously concerned. “Do you feel okay?” she repeated, looking him up and down. Michael didn’t know what to say – he didn’t know if he could say anything. “You're very sweaty,” she observed. “You look very distressed, should I get Madame Pomfrey?”  
  
“No,” Michael said quickly, his voice at last back under his control. “I…you just startled me.”  
  
“Oh, I'm sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t mean to do that at. Do I look all right?” she added, tilting her head a little to the side.  
  
“What?” Michael said sharply, blinking repeatedly.  
  
“You're looking at me just like I was at you, and I thought you might be having a heart attack,” she replied. She looked herself up and down. “Do I have something on my face?”  
  
“Oh, no, you…you don't,” Michael said quickly. He would’ve blushed, but all the blood in his body had gone to his brain. It was pounding against his skull. He had been staring. There was a pause where neither person said a thing.  
  
“My name’s Luna Lovegood,” she said after what appeared to be a totally non-awkward moment for her, politely holding out a hand. Without a thought, he reached out and took it, giving it a light shake. She dropped his hand and smiled at him. “You’re the one who fought with Professor Snape, right?”   
  
“Yeah, that was me,” Michael said. Michael glanced over at the matron’s office; the light was off and the door remained firmly shut. “I'm Michael.”  
  
Luna’s eyebrows narrowed slightly, she looked deep in thought. “Hmmm.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Do you have a last name?” she asked. “I know some famous singers don't have a last name, but you don't look like a famous singer.”  
  
Michael laughed out loud at that. He immediately looked towards the office again. He had not been too loud, no one came out. Forgetting himself, Michael smiled back at her. “It’s Jacobs. Michael Jacobs.” In the silence following, while Luna’s brow furrowed more deeply, Michael discovered his heart rate had slowed back to somewhat normal patterns.   
  
“So,” Michael said after a moment, “what are you doing here? Are you hurt?”  
  
“No,” Luna answered, shaking her head, “I wanted to ask you something.”  
  
Michael couldn’t immediately figure that one out. “So…why here, and now? Its way after curfew, right?”  
  
“You seem like someone who likes privacy,” Luna said simply. “I thought you might not want to talk to me if there were other people around.”  
  
“I’d still talk to you,” Michael said in a rush. This time, he did have the necessarily fluids to turn his face red. Putting aside that comment, Michael turned to the crux of the matter. He had no idea what she was about to ask, but he had a feeling he already knew where they would end up regardless. “What did you want to ask me, Luna?”  
  
It felt good to say her name again.   
  
“Have we met?”   
  
If Michael had feared his heart overdoing it earlier, its new condition was precisely the opposite – his heart nearly stopped. Well, it was a yes or no question. One answer forced him to lie, the other would bring out the truth. Michael still wasn’t sure which was worse. He compromised.  
  
“Why do you ask?”   
  
I just have a feeling, do you know what I mean? Like somehow I know you… or I did? You’re from America right?” He nodded, stunned by what he was hearing. “I grew up in America, but both my parents were British. Maybe we went to school together before Hogwarts?” she suggested.   
  
“I have a common face,” Michael said before he could stop himself. It was a stupid thing to say in any situation, but he needed to stall. Just a little longer to make a decision….  
  
“No,” she said thoughtfully, “that’s not it. And I don't think it's very common to have a scar like that....” She reached out and actually ran a pale finger down line near his left eye. He closed his eyes as her skin touched his. Maybe she was meant to know….  
   
Maybe that was why he was really here….  
  
“So, uh, when did you move here?” Michael asked. He would see where this went.   
  
“We moved when I was ten, right before I would be Hogwarts age.”   
  
He knew what was coming, but should she? He decided to continue. “Is that why you moved? To go to Hogwarts?”   
  
“No, that wasn’t it,” she said softly. Michael felt terrible to ask a question he already knew the answer to, but he needed more information. “I was supposed to go to Salem University, but that was before the accident.”   
  
So that’s what they told her. An accident. No, he decided suddenly, no.  She deserved to know.  
  
“An accident?” he repeated. “What happened?”   
  
“Well my mother was a very talented Witch. But she liked to invent and try new things, like new spells. One day when I was ten she used a spell she had invented….It backfired, and she died,” she finished simply. Luna didn’t look particularly upset, less so than Michael did in fact.  
  
Elysina Lovegood, dead by her own spell? It was the final straw for the STRIKE Captain.   
  
“Luna,” Michael said slowly, looking her in the face, “there’s something I need to tell you. But if I do, you need to understand it will change your views about many things, and could put you in danger.”   
  
“Go ahead, tell me,” she said, regaining her brightness.   
  
“Luna, you need to understand how serious this is –”   
  
“I will once you tell me," she said mildly. "Until then I really can't, can I?"  
  
“If you are one hundred percent sure you want me to tell you –”   
  
“Yes please,” Luna persisted.    
  
“– then come with me. We’ll talk somewhere else, more private.”   
  
He pulled the sheets off himself and climbed out of bed. He noticed Luna smiling slightly at him as he replaced his wand in his pajama pants pocket.   
  
“Something wrong?” he asked, wondering what she was smiling about.   
  
“Well, it’s just that we aren’t really supposed to be out this late. And if Mr. Filch catches us, it might be a bit of a problem…”   
  
“Well I’ll just explain to Dumbledore this was important,” he said, failing to see the issue. “I’ve got some leeway with him.”  
  
“Except that you’re not wearing a shirt,” she pointed out. “They might think we were up to something.”  
  
“Oh.” Feeling stupid, he grabbed the t-shirt that lay folded on bed stand next to his mattress.   
  
“Professor Snape really hurt you,” she observed as he pulled it on over his head. “I wonder where he learned a spell like that?”   
  
“I’ve seen Death Eaters use it before,” he told her as they tiptoed towards the door, “maybe Voldemort invented it.” He made sure to check her reaction and was pleased to see she did not flinch at the name.   
  
They pushed the door open as quietly as possible and set off down the hallway. Michael constantly looked around, on alert for both teachers and places where they could have a conversation.   
  
“I have no idea where we’re going,” he finally admitted. “Where can we go that we won't be disturbed?”   
  
She turned her huge eyes on him, looking vaguely surprised. "Why?" When he didn’t answer she said, “Here, there’s a concealed passage behind this tapestry here, Harry showed me last year.”   
  
Michael drew the tapestry aside and held it for Luna, motioning for her to go in. She did so and he followed her inside, glancing down the hall on last time to make sure they weren’t followed.   
  
He turned around and found his face inches from hers. It had been so long.... “So what did you want to tell me?” she asked, staring into his eyes. He was glad she, at least, wasn’t a secret Legilimens.   
  
He hesitated, very unsure how to say what he must. “First you need to know who I am. My friends Jeff and Sarah and myself all work for a secret organization called STRIKE.”   
  
She looked startled and turned slightly away from him. “The rumors are true then? You really are out to kill Professor Snape?”   
  
“What? No! That's not what I said. We’re here because Dumbledore asked us to come, to help keep the school safe. We’re posing as students. We’re not assassins, we’re an organization formed to fight Voldemort and other Dark Wizards without interference from the Ministry…but right now isn’t important, what’s important is what already happened. I only found out about all this since I became a Captain in STRIKE. There are only five Captains in our organization, it’s the highest rank you can become, apart from our leader. Captains are given access to every bit of information STRIKE has, including all its old reports.”   
  
He closed his eyes. “You were right when you said we’d met before. In fact, we were best friends until we were ten.” He wondered if she would think him mad or a liar. He opened his eyes to look at her; she looked more curious than frightened or incredulous.   
  
“But why don’t I remember you?” she asked. “As more than a suspicion I mean?”   
  
“Because when you were ten, you were caught in the blast range of an extremely dangerous curse. The same curse that killed your mother.”   
  
“What are you saying?” she asked slowly, showing fear for the first time. "Not that my mother took my memories?"  
  
“No Luna,” he said sadly, opening his eyes and looking into hers. “That curse was used by the assassin who murdered your mother. Your mom protected you with a Shield Charm…but it wasn’t enough to save herself.  That curse took not only your mother’s life – as well as the bastard who cast it – but your memories.”   
  
“Why would someone want to kill my mum?" Luna asked, looking shocked. "She worked for the Ministry, in the Department of Magical Games.” Her mouth stayed open as she finished speaking, then moved without noise for a moment. “She didn’t, did she?”   
  
“That was what she told everyone, apart from your father. Your mom was a member of STRIKE, Luna. She was one of five Captains, like I am. I…I knew her really well when we were kids,” Michael said, feeling emotion he knew should be reserved for Luna. “Obviously I didn’t know she was in STRIKE but…she was so  _nice_  to me.  
  
“You make a lot of enemies being in STRIKE, especially if you’re active in the field and good at what you do. Your mom was both, and a lot of those enemies are powerful Dark Wizards…it was four against one and from what I read, she almost fought them all off, enough to keep you safe at least.”  
  
“What happened after?” Luna asked, still not showing nearly as much shock as Michael had expected. It seemed as though she was still mostly curious about the whole matter.  
  
“A STRIKE group arrived at your house, your dad was holding you, and you weren’t moving or conscious. They took you to General Staffon, the leader of STRIKE, to try and save your life.   
  
“He was able to heal your physical injuries, but your dad asked him not to restore all your memories. He wanted to move away, with your mom gone. He asked Staffon to alter the memories of everyone you knew outside your family, to stop you from every looking back. Your dad didn’t want anything more to do with STRIKE, and forbade them to ever reveal the truth to you. Out of respect for your mother, they agreed.” Michael gave her a moment to let it all sink in, during which Luna stared at her feet, eyes wide, then said,  
  
“I never got to say goodbye to you, Luna.” She looked back up at him. “You were my best friend. You don't see a lot of boys and girls becoming best friends at that kind of age, right? But we were. We did everything together. And then one day, you were gone.” His voice had started dull and deadpan, but was rising as he spoke. “One day, you were just gone. Your dad told my parents your mother had died, and then you left. I never saw you.”  
  
“You're angry with Dad?” Luna asked, tilting her head a little.  
  
“No,” Michael said quickly. “No, I don't blame him. He wanted to protect you…maybe I'm wrong. I'm going against what he wanted.  But I thought you deserved to know, Luna. And…I wanted you to know…STRIKE wouldn’t tell you. So I did.”  
  
“But you’re going against your whole group,” she said, sounding very concerned for him. “Won't you get in trouble?” It felt good, hearing her speak to him with such…care.  
  
Michael shrugged. “Probably. It’s…high treason, actually.”  
  
“Will they come after you?”  
  
“When they find out, they will,” Michael replied. He shrugged. “They will find out Luna…it’s our job. They don't know we were friends as children, they don't have reason to suspect I know anything or would act on it right now, though.”  
  
“What about the other two people with you?” Luna inquired. “They work for your group too, don't they?”  
  
“Jeff and Sarah already know what happened,” Michael said, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’ve been my friends a long time, they're the only people I trusted to tell. They’re my friends before they’re STRIKE’s agents. They’re on our side. I can't speak for the rest of STRIKE.”  
  
“Will they try to hurt you?”  
  
Michael paused, considering what she asked and what he knew of STRIKE. “Maybe. But you deserve to know…I did do the right thing in telling you, right?” he added, unable to keep the worry from his voice. Condemning himself to be hunted by STRIKE was one thing, hurting Luna Lovegood was something else entirely.  
  
“Yes, of course,” she said quickly. “But if you think I should know, why didn’t you find me? Tell me earlier?”   
  
“I’ve only known three months,” Michael told her. “I wasn’t a Captain until a little while ago…but really Luna, I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing. What are you going to do now?”   
  
“What do you mean?” Luna asked.  
  
“What are you planning to do with this information? Keep it a secret between us? Tell Harry and the others? Or something else?”   
  
Luna smiled at him. “I'm going to help you fight, of course,” she said serenely. “I know you don't want your group to know I'm with you, but I can still help.”  
  
Michael nodded. “We used to be best friends, remember? Wait, stupid question…but I knew that’s what you'd say. When I heard you were at the Ministry, I seriously considered coming for you and telling you everything.   
  
“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d want to join the fight. Part of me wants you to stay as far away from me and all the danger that come with that as you can. But another part keeps telling me, especially after the Ministry, that you’re in danger anyway, and it would be best for you to be trained to face it.”   
  
“And you want us to be friends again, don't you?” she supplied easily.  
  
Michael wanted to answer immediately, but had to stop once again for phrasing – Luna didn’t remember what they had been, he didn’t want to come across desperate or creepy –  
  
“I do too,” Luna assured him, somehow knowing his thoughts. “You seem nice. I’d like to see what made us such good friends once.” Michael grinned at the blonde girl. “But if we’re going to be friends again, will you teach me to fight?”  
  
“You want me to teach you?” he repeated.   
  
“Have you ever heard of Dumbledore’s Army?”   
  
“I read something about that in the paper last year…it was mostly propaganda and lies, like most of the  _Prophet_ I'm sure, but I think I got the general idea: A bunch of Wizards who wanted to seriously defend themselves against the Dark Arts, regardless of pointless government bureaucracy. Really, it reminded me a lot of STRIKE.”   
  
“Harry was our leader and teacher, and he’s a year younger than me,” she told him happily. “So that means you could teach me! I’d love to learn some of what Mum could do.”  
  
Michael felt happier and happier. He had alternately anticipated and dreaded this moment since he found out he would be coming to Hogwarts, but now he couldn’t believe it had ever given him so much as a headache. He was happier than he had been in a long time. “I’ll do it; I’ll teach you anything I can to help defend yourself against Dark Magic. But on one condition.”   
  
“What?” she asked curiously, taking a step closer to him. She clasped her hands together in front of her and swayed on her feet.   
  
“You can't do anything to let STRIKE know who you are or what you're doing. You  _cannot_  become embroidered in the STRIKE lifestyle. Your mom handled it really well, but I don't think it would be a good idea right now. STRIKE aren’t bad people, but you don't want to be with them right now. Can you trust me on that Luna?”   
  
“And I don't want you to get in trouble,” Luna said dreamily. Michael rubbed the back of his neck; he hadn’t even thought of that.   
  
“I just don't want you in any danger,” Michael said heavily. “I'm seventeen and I've nearly been killed more times than most people Dumbledore’s age. I don't want that to happen to you, all right? STRIKE is only getting more dangerous…to its enemies and to itself.”  
  
Luna seemed to accept this as good judgment and nodded. “I won't put myself in any unnecessary danger,” she agreed. “What can be helped, at least. When can we start?” she asked eagerly.   
  
“That depends. Are you going to tell the others?”   
  
“Yes, I think I will,” she said after a bit of consideration.   
  
“That’s good,” he said nodding. “Because Jeff, Sarah, and I all need to stay in form for everything that’s going on now, and we’ve got something special planned for Harry and his friends…actually, you too if you want to,” he added as an afterthought.  
  
“Something special? Like what kind of special?” she asked curiously.  
  
“Make the Death Eaters piss their pants special,” Michael answered with a small smirk that quickly dropped into a thoughtful frown. “Problem is, where can we train seven people?”   
  
“Oh that’s easy,” said Luna dreamily. “There’s a room on the seventh floor that will be perfect. It’s where we practiced in the DA last year.” Michael raised his eyebrows. That…was unexpected. But then again, he was dealing with Luna. He’d have to get used to unexpected, often.  
  
“Sound good,” Michael nodded. His vision suddenly blurred slightly and he found it very hard to stand; Michael leaned sideways up against the wall. A combination of his wounds, the incredibly difficult decision, and sheer tiredness had left him with little energy. He shut his eyes and ran a hand roughly down the side of his face.  “But let’s talk about it later. I'm actually pretty tired, and I've got some healing to do….”   
  
“All right,” she agreed. "Can I see you tomorrow? I'd really like to talk more to you.”  
  
"Of course," Michael said at once, removing his hand and opening his eyes, which despite drooping slightly, were bright. “I really missed you Luna, you were a good friend.”  
  
"Maybe I'll get to be a friend again," Luna said hopefully. "When is your free period?"   
  
“Anytime I want,” he said smoothly, unable to help himself. “What about you?”   
  
“Fourth and seventh,” she replied, giving no reaction to his claim whatsoever. Though Michael supposed by comparison to the rest of their discussion, his boast of flexible free time was a little insignificant.  
  
“Right,” he recovered, “well I have no idea where your common room is, so I’ll wait for you outside the Gryffindor’s during fourth. Sound good?”   
  
“I’ll be there,” she airily. “And Michael…thank you.” She smiled happily and he smiled back, slightly awkwardly. What else was there to say? Many things, but not tonight. “Shall we go then?” she asked. He agreed and they departed the concealed hallway. They set off back to the hospital wing together.   
  
“So, uh, what exactly were you and Harry doing in there anyway?” Michael asked as they walked.   
  
“Oh, I found him in here yelling at Cho Chang last year,” Luna informed him. She was not looking at him, or watching ahead. Instead she stared up at the ceiling as they went. “They didn’t have a very nice time together.”  
  
“No?”  
  
“No,” she mused. “They were actually one of the worst couples I’ve ever seen. Harry will be much happier with Ginny, once he figures out he should be with Ginny, of course.” She looked at him sideways. “Why, what did you think we were doing in there? Having sex?”   
  
“What?” Michael said, startled and amused at the same time, “No…well maybe.”   
  
“Well that wasn’t it,” she said dreamily, “because Harry only wants to have sex with Ginny.”   
  
Michael  _knew_  he liked Harry.  
  
    
“Oh, good to know,” he chuckled, thrilled to be part of her guiltless honesty again. “Who  _do_  you have sex with then?”   
  
“That’s not a very polite thing to ask a girl,” Luna pointed out vaguely.   
  
Michael grinned. “Come on, Luna. Don’t you remember me at all?”   
  
Luna smiled placidly. “No one actually…I suppose you haven't heard yet, but people think I'm a bit strange. My dating life hasn’t really begun to flourish yet. A lot of people call me 'Loony Lovegood, actually.'"  
  
" _What_?" Michael said angrily, turning to face her. "Who?”  
  
“Well, most people, really," Luna said unconcernedly. "Except Harry and Ginny and the others, they're very nice. It’s okay if I’m not dating though," she added. “I'm happy with my friends.”  
  
"I can't believe Wizards around here haven't stared showering you with diamonds," Michael muttered under his breath.  
  
"Maybe they know sapphires are better," Luna said easily, smiling. "Sapphire are the best wedding stone. They promote calmness, which is very important in a marriage."  
  
"There's something your mom used to say," Michael said quietly. "She used to tell you 'change the world, don't let the world change you.'"  
  
"I remember that," Luna said thoughtfully. "I wonder how much of what I remember about Mum is true? Apart from her job, but I didn’t know that to begin with.”  
  
"I don't think your dad would want your personal memories of her altered,” Michael told her comfortingly. “She was wonderful to you, and everyone. Especially me,” he added with a smirk. “She made me lunch as much as my own parents.”   
  
"Can you help me with that?" Luna asked cautiously. It wasn't the response Michael had expected, at least not at that moment. “If my memories can be changed, they can be changed back, can't they?”  
  
"I... maybe," Michael said uncertainly. "I'm not real knowledgeable about mental magic like that, apart from some Legilmency skills, but I do want to help you Luna. Magic theory has never been my forte, I'm more of a practical Wizard.”  
  
“I'm actually reading up on several alternative theories of magic right now,” Luna offered. “Did you know that there are cultures that don't believe it’s possible – or even right – to really control magic? They tend to look at magic as a sort of being, not quite alive, but sentient, I think. They don't think it’s moral to try and harness such a force for personal use. They attribute Dark Wizards to allowing unrestrained magic to corrupt and in the end, control  _them_. Dark Wizards are used as a tool for magic to punish us for meddling in things we shouldn’t, or so the theory goes. It’s all very abstract though,” she smiled at Michael, seeing the look of utter confusion on his face.  
  
Michael laughed. “Well, if we put our heads together, I doubt there's much magic we wouldn’t be capable of,” he said confidently. “If you can get a handle on the theory behind it, I might actually be able to work it in a practical way.  I'll do what I can to help you get your real memories back, if that's what you want."  
  
"I'd love that," Luna said quietly. "I really would...." She stifled a yawn behind her hand as they turned a corner.  
  
“I can find my way back,” Michael told her. “If you’re tired, I don't want to keep you out.”   
  
“No,” she said serenely, “I haven't seen you in seven years. I’ll stay with you.”   
  
“Okay.”   
  
He paused when they reached the door outside the hospital wing. “I didn’t know I missed you this much,” he admitted, turning away slightly. He wasn’t sure what his face was doing right now, but he was fairly sure it wasn’t flattering.  
  
“It’s strange,” she said, looking completely at ease, “but I feel like that too. Even though tonight is my first real memory of you, I feel like I really missed you.”   
  
Michael shifted his feet a little. “Luna –”   
  
“Yes?”   
  
“Nothing...never mind.”   
  
“If you say so,” she said, looking at him curiously.   
  
He’d done enough. He’s said enough. Despite the strange lump between his throat and sternum, Michael knew instinctively it was time for them to part, at least for a while. Any longer and he might overwhelm her.   
  
He had to keep reminding himself that he had lost his best friend, but she had not.  
  
“Well, ‘night Luna.”   
  
“Good night,” she said softly, pulling him into a gentle hug, “and thank you again.” She released him before he even thought to put his arms around her.  
  
He watched her turn and head down the passage, almost…skipping. Same old Luna. Smiling to himself, he opened the door quietly and slipped back into his bed. He pulled his shirt off and replaced it on the bedstand along with his wand.   
  
Michael stretched grandly. He felt wonderful, as if a heavy weight had been lifted off him. He had no problem sleeping comfortably that night, for the first time in a long while. When he woke the next day, he was not surprised to find that he was still wearing the same smile.


	13. Chapter 13: The Wolf Pack

Overwhelmed with his newfound contentment, Michael jumped out of bed and stretched, basking in the light pouring in through the window. Madame Pomfrey came striding out of her office towards him as he pulled on his shirt. She smiled at his quick recovery.  
  
“Ah, good to see you up, Mr. Jacobs,” she said pleasantly. “I trust you’re feeling better?”   
  
“Much better,” Michael said politely. “Harry told me you had patched him up enough times, and I figure anything Snape could do to me must be nothing compared to what Harry manages to get into once a week.”   
  
She chuckled. “He does have a tendency to spend more time here than he should. Minerva once suggested we get him a private bed. It’s just before breakfast” she added. “If you hurry, you'll have time to make it up to your dormitory and change into your robes. Then you can join your friends at breakfast.”   
  
“Thank you, I’ll do that,” Michael said, turning to leave.   
  
“Oh, one last thing,” she called as he was almost at the door. “Professor Dumbledore came by and said he needed to speak with you in his office as soon as possible. The password is Lemon Drop.”   
  
Michael frowned. Maybe Dumbledore had decided he was angry with him for the Snape incident after all. Or perhaps this was something to do with STRIKE and the war? Michael had a distinct feeling his ‘vacation’ of a mission wasn’t going to last much longer. “I’ll go see him after breakfast then,” he told her, nodding.  
  
“Goodbye, Mr. Jacobs.”   
  
Michael left, walking briskly back towards the common room, smiling to himself. In a shock of horror, he wondered if Dumbledore had seen him and Luna sneaking around and assumed they were up to something. Even though Dumbledore was never going to put him in detention or anything similar, the thought of the old man reprimanding him for getting up to anything with Luna was…horrifying.   
  
It was also a little exciting.  
  
He passed a few stragglers on their way to eat as he ascended the many staircases, but found the Gryffindor common room deserted. The sixth year dormitory was empty as well, and changed into his Hogwarts robes in silence. As was about to leave, he noticed his school schedule lying on his bed. House Elves?  
  
So first he would have breakfast with Harry and the others, then straight to Dumbledore’s office…that meant skipping Potions. Then Defense…that would be interesting…and after that Charms. And then  _finally_  his meeting with Luna.  
  
He found his friends sitting together in their usual spot at the end of the table, talking casually. He slid onto the bench beside Jeff, across from the Trio. They all greeted him happily as he grabbed at everything on the table, just now realizing how hungry he was.  
  
“Listen,” he told them after a few large bites, “I’ve got something to show you after class today. You three know about the Room of Requirement right?” he asked the Trio.   
  
“Yeah, we used it all last year” Harry said, surprised. “But how do you…?”   
  
“I’ll explain later,” he cut through. “Just be there after your last class. Can you show Jeff and Sarah where it is?”   
  
“I will,” Hermione said. She looked determined about something. Michael raised his eyebrows at her, asking her to continue. She continued to look nervous, but after a buildup of resolve asked in a rush, “Does this have anything to do with Luna?”   
  
Michael laughed, which seemed to surprise the others. “You had me figured out from the start, didn’t you Hermione?” he asked easily. “Yes, it does actually. I’ll explain everything soon, I promise. But right now, I have to see Dumbledore.”  
  
“Dumbledore?” Ron repeated. “What does he want with you?”  
  
“Is this school stuff?” Jeff asked. “Or ‘school stuff?’”  
  
“I don't know,” Michael shrugged honestly. “Honestly, there’s a lot it could be.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It could be something to do with STRIKE and Voldemort, or it could be related to Snape or Luna. Personally, I’m hoping for Voldemort.”  
  
“What did you –?” Sarah began, but Michael shook his head at her.  
  
“I told you, you’ll find out later,” he said repressively. He snapped his fingers at the back of Ron’s head, which was currently turned towards the Ravenclaw table.  
  
Harry sighed. “What should I tell Professor Slughorn when he asks about you?”  
  
“Tell him I’ll Snape him if he gives me trouble,” he said, standing up and wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Just kidding,” Michael added with a smirk as Hermione made an irritated and irritating noise. “I also won't be around for whatever comes after Charms.”  
  
“What exactly are you doing, Michael?” Harry asked suspiciously as he threw his napkin down and quickly navigated away from the table.  
  
“Room of Requirement, after class!” he called back.   
  
He struggled to find the Headmaster’s office, but prevailed after ten minutes of wandering stupidly around the castle. Thinking he should ask Dumbledore for a map after this was done, Michael looked curiously at the two gargoyles, who were not moving or doing anything to acknowledge his presence.   
  
Michael cleared his throat and glanced around once. “Lemon Drop,” he said clearly, if a little quietly, as he felt a bit silly talking to a statue. Neither gargoyle gave him any sort of response whatsoever. Now irritated as well, Michael repeated the password a little louder and much more forcefully.  
  
“We heard you the first time, kid,” one of them said to him.   
  
“There’s really no need to yell,” the other snickered.   
  
“Can I just go up to see Professor Dumbledore?” Michael asked, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger.   
  
“Fine,” the first said a little moodily, and they both sprang apart to permit him entry. “But it would be nice if a student actually talked to us, you know!” the second yelled as he quickly climbed the spiral staircase. He knocked on the door, and Dumbledore called him to enter, sounding tired and troubled.   
  
He was sitting behind his desk, resting his chin on his clasped hands, eyes closed. He didn’t look up or open his eyes as Michael stepped inside, closing the door carefully behind him.   
  
“You wanted to see me, Professor?” he asked, trying to figure out what had happened. Dumbledore did not reply, he merely motioned for Michael to take the seat before his desk. He did so, looking curiously around the office as he did, observing a number of curious instruments he had no idea as to the function of.  
  
“Michael,” he said after a moment, “you’ve had some dealings with Rufus Scrimgeour before, have you not?”   
  
Michael clenched his fists involuntarily. “Yes sir, I have,” he said through his teeth.   
  
“You do not like the man, I hear.” Dumbledore said. What was this about?   
  
“Not particularly,” he growled. “What about you, do you approve of him?”   
  
He sighed sadly and opened his eyes. “I had tried to, at least until last night, when he refused to release Severus Snape.”   
  
“He did  _what_?” Michael almost shouted, sitting up straight. “But I signed that paper! I said it was an accident!” As strong as his feelings of happiness had been after his encounter with Luna last night, the anger that was boiling in his belly towards the Minister wiped them totally from his mind.  
  
“I know, and I believe he does too,” Dumbledore said, uncharacteristically angry. “But he maintains that there is insufficient evidence to release Severus, and so he remains in Azkaban.”   
  
“What’s he playing at, insufficient evidence?” Michael snarled. “You have a signed statement from the victim, advocating his innocence!”   
  
“Not anymore,” Dumbledore said gravely. “The Minister tore up the statement the moment he read the name at the bottom. He refuses to accept any sort of testimony from you or from myself.”   
  
“So this is some kind of personal vendetta against us?” Michael said loudly. “He picked the wrong set of enemies….” He stood up and actually drew his wand, which emitted small amounts of green sparks.   
  
“No,” Dumbledore said firmly, “You cannot hope to walk out of the Ministry a free man if you challenge the Minister now. You are needed here, as well as on the hunt for the Slytherin Seven, if I recall. We have already lost Severus, we cannot lose you as well.”   
  
“I’m not just going to let him rot in prison because Rufus Scrimgeour and I are this close,” he held two fingers a centimeter apart, “from dueling in the middle of the Ministry!”   
  
“No Michael,” Dumbledore corrected him quietly, “it is because of me, and I suppose Lord Voldemort as well, that Professor Snape is in such trouble. Whatever your feelings towards the man, the two people that Scrimgeour hates most in the world are quite possibly Tom Riddle and myself. As Severus has had connections to both of us, Rufus is incredibly suspicious of him.”   
  
“So what do we do?” Michael asked, grudgingly sitting back down. “What’s the plan?”   
  
Dumbledore hesitated slightly as he said, “I am going to ask you to do something I know you will dislike having to do. I'm asking you to do nothing.”   
  
“Professor?” Michael asked in astonishment, “You know what I am, and what I can do! I can help!”   
  
“Before I consider what you may or may not be able to do,” Dumbledore said evenly, “I’d like to know why it is you and Rufus detest each other so. I cannot imagine he approves of your group.”  
  
“No, he doesn’t,” Michael said, rubbing the back of his neck roughly, “but I don't care about that. STRIKE and Scrimgeour were never going to get along. But no, it was when I was an Auror under his command that we started this.” Michael looked away from Dumbledore’s piercing eyes. “He used me and my partner as bait to draw out Bellatrix and Voldemort. He didn’t tell us because he thought we wouldn’t be convincing if we knew what we were there for. A sacrifice for the war effort, he told me later, after Voldemort scarred me and murdered my partner.”  
  
Dumbledore didn’t react, at least not immediately. He was studying Michael closely, and Michael suddenly felt compelled to turn back to him.   
  
“What would you have done in Rufus’ situation?” Dumbledore asked. Michael frowned at him.  
  
“Are you asking me if I would have sacrificed two of my men to get a shot at Voldemort?” Michael wondered aloud.  
  
“It is a fair question, if not a pleasant one,” Dumbledore replied.  
  
“I understand how important killing that snake-freak is,” Michael said fiercely, “but I wouldn’t lie to the people who trusted me like that. If anything, I’d go myself and use my position as bait to draw out Voldemort. Sir, you know my position in STRIKE,” Michael added. “I haven't ever tricked any of my men into facing Voldemort with even numbers.”  
  
“And instead you place yourself in the greatest danger?” Dumbledore inquired, his glasses sliding down his nose slightly.   
  
“I've never set out for a suicide mission,” Michael answered. “Whatever dangers I face, I have to be confident I'm capable of handling them, along with my friends. That's the only way we can win this war, isn’t it? If the best of us give what we can?”  
  
Dumbledore smiled. “You are not the only one who believes this struggle will come down to the quality of Wizards on each side, not the quantity. We have suffered great losses already, but I am, as you say, confident, in the quality of this coming generation. I am glad to have you here with us, Michael, but I'm afraid I must insist you do not interfere with the investigation of Severus Snape. Consider for a moment, your relationship with the Minister. I'm sure you can see why you would complicate matters,” Dumbledore urged him. Michael greatly resented the old man’s common sense.   
  
“My presence would do more harm than good…” he muttered furiously. “I understand, and I’ll leave this to you. But who will be the Defense teacher?”   
  
“Until Severus is released, I will fill the position myself,” he said, tapping his fingers on his desk. “I have no chance of finding another teacher on such short notice, and I will not allow a second Dolores Umbridge to wreak havoc upon my school.”   
  
“So I’ll stay out of this, and continue with my current assignment then,” Michael acknowledged, standing again. “But if it comes to it, I will be paying Scrimgeour a visit, and rest assured you will hear about if I do.”   
  
“Before you go,” Dumbledore said, sounding at once more like a teacher, and less like an exhausted general “There is one more thing, Mr. Jacobs.”   
  
Michael stopped, recognizing the use of his last name. Teachers always did that when he were in trouble. Did the omniscient Dumbledore spy on his students nighttime prowling?   
  
“Yes, sir?” he asked respectfully. Sir always helped.  
  
“I hear from Mr. Filch that you and Miss Luna Lovegood where wandering the hallways of Hogwarts in the late hours of the night yesterday,” Dumbledore said, not accusingly, more questioningly. He was not jumping to conclusions, he gave him the chance to explain.  
  
Michael turned and looked Dumbledore straight in the eye. He had to tell Dumbledore what they had been doing, but was resolute in that he would not betray Luna’s secret, not even to the mighty headmaster.  
  
“Luna and I had something very important to talk about,” he said eventually. “I can't tell what we talked about, because it is extremely personal. But I can tell you nothing happened. We weren’t…you know.” He felt very uncomfortable discussing sexuality both concerning Luna and in the presence of Albus Dumbledore.   
  
Dumbledore watched him closely for a moment, then smiled. “I believe you, Michael. And I applaud your loyalty to your friend. I see it was no accident you were placed into Gryffindor.”   
  
“Thank you, Professor.” He made to leave again, but then one more question swam into his head. “Wait, if the caretaker thought we were up to something, why didn’t he try to stop us?”   
  
Dumbledore’s smile grew the tiniest amount. “Because he nowhere near the Wizard that Severus Snape is.”  
  
Michael couldn’t help but laugh at that. He made one more attempt to slip away, but was stopped by Dumbledore yet again.  
  
“Michael,” Dumbledore said very seriously, once again fixing that look on him.  
  
“Yes, sir?” Michael asked, wondering what else he could have to say to him.  
  
“Be good to Luna Lovegood. She has not had an easy life.”  
  
“You don't know the half of it,” Michael couldn’t help muttering.  
  
“Nor, I suspect, do you,” Dumbledore replied, none of his usual lightness in his voice. “Enjoy your classes the rest of the day.”  
  
“Professor –”  
  
“You're going to be late for Charms,” Dumbledore reminded him, a little of the twinkle returning to his eye. Deciding to leave Dumbledore to his own devices for now, Michael finally escaped the Headmaster’s office.  
  
In Charms, Professor Flitwick had decided that given recent events, namely the near death of a student, they should learn how to properly heal at least moderate wounds and injuries. Michael was vaguely familiar with basic Healing Charms, having needed many of them over the course of the last year. He found the Charm somewhat difficult as they practiced on gashed pumpkins, but enjoyed the challenge of learning something of actual use.   
  
Ignoring his friends’ snide comments about him looking nervous and jumpy, Michael bade them goodbye as soon as class was over, and hurried off to the Gryffindor common room to meet Luna. He got there first and waited for her, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, ignoring the Fat Lady’s snide comments. He had already realized it was rather poor manners for him to make her come to him, but he really had no idea where anything else was in Hogwarts and didn’t think it was wise for either of them to be meeting in a very public place like the Great Hall yet.  
  
She finally appeared after about a five minutes wait, out of breath and carrying a stack of books. “I’m sorry!” she said as soon as she was within audible range, “I got held up by Professor McGonagall in Transfiguration…it seems she heard something about the two of us being out late last night and wanted to talk to me, since she was sure Professor Flitwick wouldn’t.”  
  
“Yeah, I talked to Dumbledore about that,” he said, taking the books from her arms. ”Don’t worry,” he added quickly, “I didn’t tell him what we spoke about, but I convinced him to leave it alone.”   
  
“That’s good,” Luna said cheerfully. ”It was very awkward having Professor McGonagall try to ask me if I was having sex without actually using the word, I'm glad we won't have to have that conversation again. Shall we go to the Room of Requirement then?”   
  
“Sure, lead the way.”   
  
It took them a few minutes to reach the room, and they talked happily about random, trivial things along the way. It wasn’t until they were on the seventh floor that Luna turned the conversation more serious.   
  
“So, I was wondering,” she began, still laughing at a story he had just finished about his, Jeff, and Sarah’s adventures in STRIKE, “if you could tell me about my mum? What she was like in STRIKE?”   
  
“I wasn't there, obviously, but she’s a legend in the organization,” Michael told her. “It’s crazy to think she was doing the same job I am now when we were kids…making us sandwiches by day and taking down Dark Wizards at night. Your mom was pretty well liked by everyone, Luna. She…well they don't talk about her a lot around STRIKE, because of what happened to her…but when they do, it’s with a kind of awe. If she wasn’t so popular and skilled, I might never have heard about her. I’d never have known what happened to you…there’s two degrees of separation between us, actually. I replaced Captain James Fargo when he died three months ago; he had been head of Special Forces since your mom…left. I –” Michael hesitated, balking at the idea of suggesting an idea he might not ever be able to make real.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Some time…later,” Michael said slowly, “if things ever change – between you, me, and STRIKE, I mean – I could try to find someone who worked with your mom to tell you about her. One of the other Captains I know would have been in the same role when your mom was. He and I don't exactly get along, but maybe I could find someone who knew her.”  
  
“That would be nice,” Luna smiled. “So did she do the same kind of work you do? Protecting people and going to fight?”  
  
“Well, Luna, there are really two kinds of operatives in STRIKE: One kind which tries to always save as many lives as possible, while still handling the job efficiently. The second type of person doesn’t care about lives other than his own and his close friends, if anyone. They do usually get the job done without fail though.  
  
“Your mom was the first type,” he told her. “She never took a life if it meant innocent blood would be shed, and she was the best at making sure that never happened. She still holds the record for most ever missions run by an agent without a death on either side.”   
  
“And what about you?” Luna asked him. “Which type are you?”   
  
Michael shrugged.  
  
“I think mostly the first, but…my body count is up there,” he muttered, looking away from her. “It’s not like I go looking for it though.”  
  
“Well, I think you sound exactly like the first type,” she said confidently. “I can't imagine you killing anyone, unless it was really necessary.”   
  
“You’ve only known me for a day” he reminded her.   
  
“No, I've known you for years,” she corrected him. “But I wouldn’t have to, to know that. Anyone who spoke to you for more than a few minutes could tell that you’re a good person.”   
  
“Does it bother you that I've killed someone?” Michael asked her bluntly. She was already starting to rub off on him. “That I've killed  _multiple_ people?”  
  
“No,” Luna said after a moment, shaking her head. “I can't imagine you enjoy it very much –”  
  
“No,” Michael said quickly.  
  
“I believe you're doing good,” Luna said, suddenly serious. “I believe that. I believe you're special.”  
  
“Special?” Michael repeated, frowning.  
  
“Yes,” Luna answered. “I can tell, when a person is special. When they're  _more_. Harry is special, and Professor Dumbledore is special, and so are you.”  
  
“I don't know about that,” Michael shrugged. “I'm just a guy. I’m not special in who I am, just maybe in what I can do.”  
  
“I hope you can learn to see things differently eventually,” Luna said, sounding a little disappointed.   
  
“I’ll do my best,” he said, smiling again. “Is this it?” he added as they came to a stop before a large expanse of blank wall.   
  
“Yes, it is.”   
  
“Luna, I don’t mean to burst your bubble, but there’s nothing here…” he said doubtfully.   
  
“What are we using this room for?” Luna asked him, ignoring his doubt.   
  
“To practice and train in,” he answered, still looking at her disbelievingly. “But what room are we talking about here?”   
  
“Just wait,” she said patiently. She paced back and forth in front of the wall, eyes closed. Michael watched her, wondering what she thought would happen. His eyes widened in surprise as a large wooden door appeared where the wall just was, and Luna stopped walking and looked at him.   
  
“Does  _every_ part of this castle have some great ancient secret?” he asked, still staring uncertainly at the door.   
  
“Come inside,” Luna offered. She pulled the door open and stepped inside, Michael followed behind her, looking around in awe. The room was enormous, filled with everything they could possibly ask for to train seven people.   
  
There were piles of books in one corner, a number of humanoid dummies in another. The floor was soft and padded, and there were a number of wooden swords, staffs, and other weapons hanging on a wall.   
  
“Wow,” he said, amazed he had doubted Luna. “This is really something else you’ve got here. Ever use it for anything else?” he added after a moment.  
  
“Like what?” she asked, also examining the features of the room.   
  
“I don’t know, anything,” he said, shrugging. “This would be good for anytime you wanted to be left alone, I bet,” he finished, a knowing look in his eye.   
  
“Like do I ever hide here when people are cruel to me?” she asked bluntly, seeing exactly what he meant.   
  
“Well…yeah,” he muttered uncomfortably. He hadn’t intended to pry. “Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have –”   
  
“Yes, when I was younger,” she told him plainly. “I couldn’t always handle it as well back then and sometimes it made me very sad. But it turned out to be a good thing. Because of that, I was able to show Harry where the DA could meet last year,” she added brightly.   
  
“So, how exactly  _do_  you get in?” he asked, badly wanting to change the subject.   
  
“Oh, it’s easy,” she assured him. She explained how to make the door appear, and how to make it become exactly what you desired.   
  
“This is great,” he said enthusiastically. “So, can you be back here after lessons today? Harry and all the others are coming so we can get a start on everything. I think you’ll like my first trick.”   
  
“I’ll be there,” Luna promised. “But, can you do something for me Michael?”   
  
“Probably,” he said confidently. “I can do a lot of things, what’d you need?”   
  
“Could you help me tell Harry and the others about all this?” she asked softly. “There are still some parts I'm not completely sure about, and I think it would be helpful if we did it together.”  
  
“Of course,” he said in the most comforting voice he could bring up. “When do you want to do it? We can wait if you like, I’ll make some excuse.”  
  
“No, they should know today,” she said, shaking her head and sending her blonde hair flying. “I don't want them to think I’d keep anything from them.”   
  
Michael thought that sounded a little strange, but he let it go.  
  
“Whatever you think is best,” he nodded. Michael glanced at a clock that hung opposite the weapons. “We should probably go. It’s almost time for class.”   
  
“I thought you chose to go to class or not yourself,” Luna said dreamily. “Or did Professor Dumbledore threaten to send you into the Forbidden Forest?”  
  
“The what now?”  
  
“The Forbidden Forest,” Luna repeated calmly. “It’s a rather horrible place filled with all kinds of interesting creatures like giant spiders and Feasting Flies. Professor Dumbledore sometimes sends students there for detention.” Michael blinked. “He’s a very good teacher besides that though!” Luna added earnestly. “And after all, there’s a very nice giant who lives there too, I think he might be Hagrid’s brother, his name is Gwarp. He doesn’t get along so well with the Centaurs though, they're rather territorial. I think they at least know better than to encroach on the Werewolves.” She smiled placidly at Michael as he took stock of the horrors she had described to him. Michael marveled that anyone without combat training managed to survive this school for seven years.  
  
“But anyway,” Luna went on, as if none of the creatures she had mentioned – though Michael had never once heard of a Feasting Fly – had the ability to tear them limb from limb, “I thought you chose what classes to go to?”  
  
“Well, I do!” he said defensively. “But if I just stop showing up to anything, people will start to wonder.”   
  
“Yes, I suppose I need to go too,” she agreed. “Where are you going?” Michael had to rummage in his pocket for his schedule to double check.   
  
“Erm…Transfiguration,” he read aloud. “What about you?”   
  
“Arithmancy, with the Slytherins” she said, a strangely mundane tone of annoyance slipping into her words. It didn’t suit her.  
  
“Ah, well, maybe you'll get to pick a few fights, eh?” Michael said, trying to sound jealous. He immediately felt stupid saying it.  
  
“You haven't ever been in an Arithmancy class, have you?” Luna asked, now with a smile.   
  
“I actually have no idea what Arithmancy is, to be honest,” he admitted as they left the room together. The second they were out the doorway, it melted back into plain wall. They parted ways at the first floor. Michael handed her back her books and headed down to Transfiguration, to join the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws.   
  
“Where the hell have you been?” Jeff snarled at him the moment he caught sight of Michael, who slid into his seat closest to the door at the last second before the bell. He and Harry where wearing looks of equal annoyance and humor, while Ron and Hermione scowled at each other, sitting on Jeff’s left and Harry’s right. Sarah was idly scratching a drawing into the wooden top of the desk she sat at using her uninked quill.  
  
“Why, what happened?” he asked warily as Professor McGonagall began her lecture. Fortunately the lesson today was all theory and they would not be asked to perform any magic in front of her. They spoke in broken exchanges each time her back was turned to write something on the large board behind her.  
  
“Didn’t I tell you if anyone tried to kill each other, I'd have to deal with it?” Jeff asked angrily.   
  
“What the hell are you talking about Allero?” Michael asked, eying the group in turn, lingering on the furious Ron and Hermione. “If two people nearly died in two days, things really have changed in the year I haven't been at school.” He thought of what Luna had told him about the Forest.  
  
“These two!” Jeff replied in a whisper, pointing at Ron and Hermione, who were now glaring in opposite directions. “I thought you and Scrimgeour had big fights, but that’s nothing compared to them.”   
  
“Well, if Ron wasn’t a pig, maybe we wouldn’t!” Hermione said harshly. She crossed her arms and turned to the front of the class, determined to pay attention only to McGonagall. She flushed bright red when she realized she had spoken far too loudly and drawn both the attention and ire of the Professor.  
  
“What?” Ron shot back at her, after McGonagall had finished punishing Hermione with her stare. “It was a compliment!” Sarah buried her face in her hands and shook her head. Hermione’s only response was a quick ‘sushing’ noise and a flaring of her nose.  
  
Michael laughed quietly to himself – everything seemed about three times as funny lately – and copied Hermione, turning his attention to the Transfiguration Master, who had thankfully failed to pick up on any more of the war being waged in the back of her classroom. Again Michael enjoyed the lesson, once he actually thought to pay attention to it. He had thought after a year of living independently and free, fighting dangerous duels almost daily, he might find school incredibly routine. And in fact, he did. What surprised him was that he was actually pleased with this – he had never especially liked lessons at Salem, after all. But for all his talk – most of it backed up – he had to admit, a little boring routine was nice. He was relishing this sheltered life, though he knew it could not last. Contrarily, Jeff and Sarah seemed restless and bored, ironic considering Sarah’s enthusiasm to come to Hogwarts. There was no denying the strong appeal of reconnecting with Luna as well, who made life anything but ordinary or dull. So for now, Michael was happy to live like a seventeen year old, daydreaming about spending time with a girl later and catching up on some of the more day-to-day forms of Transfiguration he had missed along with his final year at school.  
  
 He knew, still, it wouldn’t last.  
  
****  
  
It was time. As they packed away their things in Herbology, dirt under their fingernails, on their noses, and in their mouths, Michael knew he couldn’t put off his task any longer. He looked around to ensure they were alone enough to avoid being heard and then put his hand up to signify he wanted their attention. All five turned to look at him at once – it seemed they had been expecting this.  
  
“It’s time I told you what I'm really doing here,” Michael said, mostly to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. “Everything I told you was true; I'm here to keep an eye on the school for Dumbledore and stay with you three until we locate the Seven item we’re chasing. And as far as STRIKE knows, that's the only reason I'm here.” He sighed. “I didn’t come here for the cushy assignment or because of some agreement with Dumbledore. I came here because I knew Luna was here and after seven years, I couldn’t stop myself anymore. I had to go looking for her.”  
  
“You’ve known her that long?” Ron asked, obviously surprised. “She's never mentioned you.”  
  
“No, she wouldn’t have,” Michael grumbled, a little irritated by Ron’s phrasing. “She wants to explain everything to you in person but the short version is that we haven't seen each other since we were ten years old.”  
  
“When her mother died?” Hermione surmised, looking slightly guilty for even bringing it up. Michael nodded.  
  
“Yeah, we separated after that,” Michael told her. “For a long time, I had no idea why, and I won't lie, it messed me up a little for a while. All I knew was my best friend was gone without a word. After a while, of course, I made new friends, I met Jeff and Sarah a year later,” he said, gesturing briefly at the pair of them. “But I never could let go about what happened to that girl. A few months ago, I finally got my answer. Last night, I told her about it – about everything.” He paused. “For better or worse, Luna’s now as involved in this as any of us.”  
  
Michael wasn’t sure how he felt about that last statement. Harry seemed like he wanted to ask something, but was concerned he should not. Michael frowned at him, giving him a look that urged him to get it out.  
  
“Michael…” Harry said slowly, not quite looking him in the eyes. “Was Luna always…what was she like when you were kids?”  
  
“Very similar,” Michael chuckled, knowing what Harry was getting at. But then he rubbed the back of his neck and moved slightly to force Harry to meet his eyes. “But back then she…well, I think there was a little more balance between her parents. Her mom was like her, don't get me wrong, but she was grounded in a way her dad never was.”  
  
Ron grinned at that, and even Hermione smiled a little.  
  
“I'm going to have to stay mysterious for now,” Michael said apologetically. “But actually…she wants to see us all right now, up at the Room of Requirement. I think she’s going to explain everything to you. She said you were her friends, and deserved to know. I’ll understand if anyone can't afford to miss dinner though,” he added with a laugh, eying Ron.  
  
“No mate, I’m going,” Ron said, very seriously. Hermione’s smile became a little more noticeable, but Ron didn’t notice.  
  
Without any more questions to ask or time to waste, the six teenagers headed off to the seventh floor to meet Luna, Michael leading the way, proud of himself for  _finally_ learning the layout of at least a bit of the castle. As they reached the corridor which contained the Room of requirement, Michael stopped abruptly. Turning to look straight at them he took a deep breath.   
  
“Listen, there’s something I need to say. Luna was the one who insisted we tell you everything about her past, which means she trusts you a lot. But I know she doesn’t want you to treat her any differently….” Michael's own choice of words stung him. “What she's about to tell you is a big thing, and frankly, it’s a horrible thing. But –”  
  
“Michael,” Harry cut across him, “whatever she tells us in there…Luna’s always going to be Luna, there’s no changing that.”  
  
Michael laughed. “Good point,” he acknowledged. “C’mon, let’s go. Maybe then I can act like a person again.”  
  
They all nodded seriously, and continued down the passage. They found Luna waiting outside the door, and she greeted them all cheerfully. The Trio greeted her warmly, but Sarah and Jeff hung back a bit to wait for Michael to make introductions. But Michael didn’t say anything to either of them; he was staring at Luna’s feet.  
  
“Is something wrong?” she asked Michael, noticing his look.  
  
“Luna, where are your shoes?” Michael asked, rubbing the back of her neck. Jeff and Sarah glanced down as well, and Harry gave him a look.  
  
“I'm not sure,” Luna said thoughtfully, scrunching up her face. “I had them on during Charms, then I took a nap before Runes. I sleep with my shoes on, you know, but they were gone when I woke up. I wear them to bed because –”  
  
“You sleepwalk,” Michael finished. He grinned. “I remember. You made your parents breakfast with your eyes closed when you were eight, you told me all about it the next day. But why don't you have your shoes  _now_?”  
  
“Well, someone probably hid them,” Luna hypothesized. Michael frowned.  
  
“Your friends playing a joke on you?”  
  
“No,” Luna replied with a small smile. “I don't really have any friends besides you.” She nodded at the assembled group, all of whom showed varying degrees of embarrassment. Michael wasn’t sure what to say – Luna hadn’t been especially popular when they were children either, but Michael supposed teenagers could be crueler than young children. He felt distinctly horrible for Luna, who seemed totally unbothered by this. “It’s all right,” she assured Michael, “with friends like you all, why would I need anyone else?”  
  
Michael was suddenly seized by a desire to hold Luna very close to him; his heart seemed to jump against his chest in an attempt to be closer to her. But there were a number of reasons this would be highly inappropriate at the moment, so Michael compromised by merely touching her arm as he walked closer to the wall. A look Michael had not yet seen crossed Luna’s face as he did so. It was gone in a second, as was his hand, and Michael turned his attention back to the task before them.  
  
Michael proceeded to make three passes before the Room, causing the same door to reappear. He opened it and led everyone inside.   
  
The Trio, Jeff, and Sarah gaped at the room the same way he had. Jeff marched over to the weapons and began inspecting them, while Harry and Ron pulled a few of the dummies into the center of the room. Hermione, Sarah, and Luna remained standing with Michael. Hermione looked slightly awkward, waiting to hear this secret of Luna’s. Sarah, on the other hand, was staring at Luna sideways, a thoughtful look on her face. Luna suddenly turned to look at her, and Sarah jumped slightly and hurriedly looked over at Jeff.  
  
“How was your summer, Hermione?” Luna asked politely.  
  
“Oh,” she said, obviously surprised, “it was fine. I spent most of my time with Ron and Harry.”  
  
Luna smiled. “That's good,” she said dreamily. “Maybe someday I’ll spend the summer holiday with you. I think we’d have a fun time working on Runes together.”  
  
“Runes?” Hermione asked, frowning.  
  
“Yes,” Luna said enthusiastically. “I've been trying to finish Erenheimer’s Translation, but I've run into some difficulties. Maybe you could help me?”  
  
“Erenheimer’s?” Hermione repeated, her eyes widening. “Luna, that translation was lost during the sacking of Berlin in the forties.”  
  
“No, the majority of it was recovered by some French Wizards after the war,” Luna disagreed pleasantly. “But it remains incomplete in some very important areas. I have a reproduction at my house, maybe you could come over and I could show you some time.”  
  
“Luna, do you want to tell us something?” Hermione asked bluntly. Michael could tell instantly she was not trying to be rude, she simply had a hard time focusing on anything else when this one large revelation loomed before them.  
  
“Oh, yes,” Luna said, shaking her head, almost as if she had forgotten, distracted by more important matters. “Michael?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Will you help me?”  
  
“Any time.”  
  
And so Luna began her tale. She presented everything plainly, objectively, and honestly, pausing only to confirm certain bits with Michael, who felt strangely like an intruder, filling in details about the murder of Elysina Lovegood and her daughter’s resulting injury.  
  
Sarah and Jeff already knew the majority of what had happened, and thanks to too much alcohol and too late of nights joining forces, they knew quite a bit of what Luna had meant to Michael as well. Harry and his best friends were far more shocked by what Luna revealed to them, especially the fact that Michael and Luna had once been nearly inseparable. Jeff was watching Michael rather than Luna for much of the story, but Michael paid him little attention in reply.  
  
Finally, the deed was done and after somewhat tentative gestures of compassion and support from the Trio, Luna smiled and turned to Michael.  
  
“So then, you said you had something very cool to show us,” she said, clasping her hands behind her and rolling back and forth on her heels.  
  
“Remember the demonstration we got from Captain Fargo, Sarah?” he asked the other STRIKE agent. She smiled reminiscently.   
  
“When he offered to teach us? Of course,” she said. “How could I forget? Is that what you’re going to do with them?”   
  
“It made an impression, didn’t it?” Michael asked. Sarah laughed.   
  
“Yes, I suppose it did.”   
  
“Great, let’s get to it then.” He closed his eyes tightly, muttering under his breath. He opened his eyes and looked around expectantly, and was pleased to see a stack of thick books lying near the other volumes of literature.   
  
He walked over and picked them up with a grunt. As he carried them to the middle of the room, where Ron and Harry were already taking practice shots at the dummies, he called them all to him.   
  
Jeff put back the long sword he had been studying, and seeing what Michael was doing, grinned as he strolled into the center to join the others, all of whom looked confused and expectant, apart from Sarah.   
  
“Catch,” Michael said, tossing Harry one of the books, which he caught easily. “Jeff, Sarah, back up a bit,” he continued, throwing Ron, Hermione and Luna all one in turn, keeping one clutched in his hand.   
  
“These are full of blank pages,” Hermione said, already having cracked open the thick tome. She flipped through the pages hopefully, but closed it with a disappointed look.  
  
“I know,” Michael said. “I didn’t want you to lose your mind in the next minute. Anyway, do me a favor and tear those in half for me,” he added casually.   
  
They all shared bewildered looks. “Tear it in half?” Ron said uncertainly. Michael nodded once at him. “Um, okay…” he began to pull it all different ways, employing all his strength, but to no effect. The others copied him, although Luna muttered strange words under her breath, apparently convinced that this would increase her strength. If it did, it was still not enough and she gave up, instead placing the book at her feet and sitting down on top of it. She propped her chin in her hands with her elbows on her knees and watched.  
  
“Well, there’s an easy way to do this,” said Hermione, who had barely tried to do any damage. She drew out her wand, but the second it was out of her pocket, it flew across the room, and Michael was looking at her with his wand pointed at her and a complacent smile on his face.   
  
“My wand!” she cried indignantly.   
  
“Is a Dark Wizard going to let you keep your wand?” Michael asked boorishly. “Is he going to leave you any way to defend yourself? No, no he will not. That is why you have to leave yourself a way to protect yourself.”   
  
With that he dropped the leather-bound book in his hand to his feet, and took a breath. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Luna all stared in disbelief as before their eyes, Michael Jacobs transformed from a man standing in front of them, into a lean white wolf.   
  
It snatched up the book its jaws and proceeded to tear it apart, shaking its head rapidly. Once it had been reduced to shreds, the wolf spit the remainder out of its mouth, threw back its snowy head, and let out a howl. Luna was staring wide eyed at the wolf, which was now bounding around the room at blazing speeds, near her.   
  
“I think that’s enough showing off Michael,” Jeff muttered, as Michael made to take another lap. The wolf skidded to a stop inches from him, looking up at him, fangs bared and growling. Jeff, however, didn’t seem impressed. ”Think you’re a big man, huh? We’ll see….” With that Jeff too morphed into a wolf, this one with a dark brown coat of fur. The two wolves circled each other, Sarah backing off a few paces.   
  
“Guys,” she said slowly, actually looking afraid, “There’s no need to – Oh my God!” she cried as the two wolves launched at each other, leaping through the air like demons, claws out and with equal howls of fury.   
  
Hermione screamed and turned away, shielding her eyes. Luna stared, her mouth wide open. But there was no need: Michael and Jeff were lying in a heap, back in human form and roaring with laughter.   
  
Sarah looked absolutely furious.   
  
“What the hell?” she screamed hysterically. “That’s not what Fargo did to show us the wolf form! I really thought you were going to kill each other!” Both boys continued to laugh.  “I'm going to kick your asses!”  
  
“Sorry, sorry,” Michael wheezed, out of breath from laughter. “But you can't deny that was hilarious!”   
  
“Yeah, it was!” Jeff put in, “We planned it out right before we came up here! The looks on your faces!” he said, turning to the other four, who had remained rooted to the same spot, watching with horror at first, now mingled admiration and laughter on Harry and Ron's faces, terror on Hermione’s, and polite curiosity on Luna’s.   
  
“How long have you been doing that?” she asked, as Sarah stormed away, not amused by her friends’ antics.   
  
“Four or so months. And get the hell off me,” he added, trying to disentangle himself from Jeff. “Sarah can too, but I don’t think she’ll oblige with a demonstration right now….”  
  
But at that exact moment a slender black wolf came speeding at the two, who rolled opposite directions to avoid it. It slid a few feet, then spun around to face them, snarling menacingly.   
  
“Look, sorry okay?” Jeff apologized, picking himself up and dusting off his robes. “No need to go all she-wolf on us, okay?”   
  
“Yeah, it was a bad idea,” Michael said, hastily getting to his feet too. “Sorry we scared you.”   
With a last growl, she slowly changed from a wolf on four paws, back to Sarah Crystalake, standing on her feet, and still glaring at them.   
  
“ _You_ , scare  _me_?” Sarah repeated. “Not likely.”  
  
“So how long will it take us?” Ron asked excitedly. “How long did it take you?”   
  
“Glad to see you appreciate the usefulness of such a skill,” Michael said with a satisfied grin, “Our Captain in STRIKE taught us the Animagus form shortly before he died.  There’s a book we used, I’ll get you all a copy. If you want it, that is.”   
  
“Of course!” Harry and Ron said at the same time. Luna considered him for a moment.   
  
“Well, I have heard that wolves frighten Heliotropes,” she said fairly. “Okay, I’ll do it. But you didn’t say how long it would take.”   
  
But Michael was watching Hermione, who was staring at the destroyed book, a fearful look on her face.   
  
“You all want to be able to do that?” she asked, pointing to the mass of wet paper strips. “You want to do that to a human being?” There was incredulity and disgust in her voice.   
  
“That’s no worse than what they would do to us!” Ron said angrily. But Michael shook his head.   
  
“Actually, none of us has ever killed another person in wolf form,” he said coolly. “That is a huge part of why we learned this power. Imagine how many fights you could prevent just by changing forms. It’s enough to make most Death Eaters run before they have a chance to kill anybody, namely you.”   
  
“So it’s a scare tactic?” Harry asked.  
  
Michael shrugged. “Partially. I mean, it definitely has useful combat applications as well. The heightened smell and animal sixth sense help with recon and tracking too. And lately we’ve found it has other uses besides all that.”  
  
“What else?” Ron asked, his excitement only growing.  
  
“STRIKE has a running list of the most dangerous Death Eaters in Voldemort’s army,” Michael told them all. “Bellatrix Lestrange sits at the top, followed by Lucius Malfoy. No, really,” he added at an audible scoff from the male members of the Trio. “He’s become a bit of a fuckup lately, no denying that. But during the first war he killed and tortured almost as many Muggles as Bellatrix, and what's more – he's got more resources than her.”  
  
“He’s still a respected member of high society,” Hermione murmured. Michael nodded.  
  
“It’s amazing how much more deadly an innocent face can make a man,” he said darkly. “Don't underestimate him. Until recently Antonin Dolohov was listed as the third…he won't be an issue anymore.”  
  
“Did you –?”   
  
“Not really,” Michael replied. “He was cut down by friendly fire.”  
  
“Snape doesn’t make an appearance on this list,” he added before Harry could say anything. He grinned a little at him. “But his replacement isn’t much better. You’ve all met him. You especially should remember him, Hermione.”  
  
“Greyback,” she said coolly, obviously remembering her near death experience at the Burrow earlier that summer.  
  
“Exactly,” Michael confirmed. “And while he isn’t an especially talented Wizard, you all know what he  _is_. But more than that, he's a leader. A leader to his people, his Werewolves. If he’s working closely with Voldemort –”  
  
“It means more Werewolves are coming to join him,” Jeff said, his voice full of spite and his fists clenched. “We know this for a fact – STRIKE and the Order both came to this conclusion on their own. And if the Werewolves are coming, it doesn’t bode well for the situation with the giants, or especially, the Vampires.”  
  
“Vampires and Werewolves both have particular senses honed to hunt humans,” Luna said quietly. “But they can't detect animals, can they?”  
  
“Not any more than ordinary,” Michael responded. “A Vampire on the lookout might recognize an Animagus if he had enough time, but as a general rule, shifting forms is the best way to avoid being stalked and blindsided by a Dark creature.”  
  
Five of them nodded agreement at Michael. Hermione looked at him oddly, her eyes narrowed slightly. Then she sighed.   
  
“You make a lot of good points Michael, I'm sorry I jumped at you like that. I think it’s actually a good idea. It’s necessary. I’ll do it.”   
  
“Great,” Michael said, relieved. He didn’t have a contingency if one of them had refused. “And here’s your wand, sorry about that,” he added, summoning it wordlessly and tossing it to her. “And to answer your earlier question, it could take anywhere from a month,” he gestured at himself, “to two,” he gestured to Sarah.   
  
“Do you have the book with you?” Harry asked.   
  
“Yeah, here….” He waved his wand and four copies of a small paperback book fell into his hands. “Don’t worry,” he added with a smirk to Ron, as he had blanched at the sight of extra books, “it’s mainly a lot of pictures.” Ron cracked into a smile at that.  
  
He handed each of them one. Hermione immediately began flipping through hers, eyebrows raised, impressed by the simple, yet precise instructions. Harry took his with a question.   
  
“This is brilliant and all,” he said, “but we’ve got lessons, Quidditch season will start soon, and lives to live on top of it all. When are we going to find time for this?”   
  
“Just read the book during class, as long as it isn’t Dumbledore’s or McGonagall’s,” Michael suggested. “I don’t think you'd survive if one of them caught you slacking off.”  
  
Just then he heard a loud growl and thought that Jeff or Sarah had returned to wolf form, but then realized it was his own stomach.   
  
“Wow, I'm starving,” he said, suddenly aware they were missing dinner. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”   
  
“Seconded” Jeff murmured.   
  
“Thirded” Ron grumbled.   
  
Let’s go then,” Michael said, as the others headed out the door. “Join us for dinner, Luna?”   
  
“At the Gryffindor table?” she asked, though she smiled. “I'm not sure if that's allowed.”   
  
“Why wouldn’t it be?” he said carelessly. “None of you have a problem with that, do you?” he added, glancing around at the others, all of whom shook their heads. Luna beamed even more.  
  
“I hope we’re having soup,” she said enthusiastically. “Did you know onion soup is very good with Maltese beetles? And sometimes I like to mix my pumpkin juice with stew, it’s very good –”   
  
“And I thought you looked excited,” Jeff muttered to Ron as Luna went on.   
  
“It’s going to be so nice to eat together, all of us friends,” Luna said eagerly. “You don’t see too many Slytherins at the Hufflepuff table, do you?”   
  
“Well no,” Michael said slowly, considering this. “But that’s just because the Slytherins are too stupid to tell snakes from their own –”   
  
All the boys laughed loudly, cutting off his final, but unnecessary, word. Sarah bit her lip and stared determinedly away from anyone else, although she was letting out small giggles. Hermione looked like she would rather be with Voldemort than Michael at the moment. But Luna turned to Michael, eyes wide.   
  
“I remember that,” she whispered. “I…I remember that horrible, horrible saying from when we knew each other!”   
  
“Yeah, and you thought it was funny then too,” Michael said proudly.  
  
“Hold on,” Harry said, “what kind of ten year old talks about – that – anyway?”   
  
“Hey,” Michael said defensively “I was nearly eleven, give me a break!” They laughed all the way to dinner, where they heaped large portions of spaghetti onto their plates, thrilled at the prospect of their new powers.  
  
“Are you sure we’ll all be able to actually become wolves?” Luna asked Michael as he contemplated his goblet of pumpkin juice. She was sitting on his left, paying more attention to him than to her food.  
  
“Yeah,” Michael said, shrugging and adding a small amount of the orange liquid to his bowl of stew. “Normally you don't choose what form you take when you become an Animagus, but Fargo was something of a master shifter. He created a learning technique that allows a person to choose their animal, if their will is strong enough.” Michael tasted a spoonful of stew and was surprised to find it actually was very good.   
  
“Captain Fargo was pretty great,” Sarah agreed from across the table. “He always took an interest in us.” She leaned in closer so only the group of seven could hear. “He was the one who recommended we not register with the Ministry.”  
  
“Captain before your mother was a renown Metamorphous,” Michael said, looking over at Luna. She set down her drink and raised her eyebrows. “Your mom didn’t have either of those skills – as far as I know – so it’s even more impressive she was able to become Captain. Special forces usually likes their heads to have one of those powers.”  
  
Luna raised her pale eyebrows. “I wonder what kind of powers she did have…” she said thoughtfully. Michael had a feeling she was talking more to herself than to him. “I never saw her fight anyone for any reason.”  
  
“Neither did I,” Michael replied, knowing deep down what Luna had just said was not really true. He repressed that – they'd deal with that later. “But that's a pretty shallow way to judge a Witch or Wizard’s skills.   
  
“I wonder if Mum  _was_ an Animagus,” Luna said pensively. “She loved to fly…maybe she was a bird?”  
  
“I don't know Luna,” Michael said doubtfully. “Your mom didn’t need gimmicks to be an amazing Witch –”  
  
“– whereas Michael needs to revert to an animal form to frighten anyone,” Hermione quipped, obviously still sore with him for the argument as well as the destruction of the books.   
  
“You're mad Hermione,” Ron said disbelievingly. “He might look like a scrawny bloke, but he's got some serious magic.”   
  
Jeff nearly spat out his drink as he laughed at Ron’s joke, but Harry seemed deep in thought about something, as he had been since Michael had shown him his Animagus form. Michael took out his wand with his left hand and aimed it back and forth between Jeff and Ron, unsure whom he wanted to hex more. Just as he settled on Ron, Luna placed a small hand on top of his own and gently pushed his wand arm back down to bench they sat on.   
  
   
  
“You can't spend your whole life fighting,” Luna said serenely. “Your stew will get cold.” Michael opened his mouth, glanced at his friends, then shut his mouth again. He picked his spoon back up, but didn’t move his left hand from its position; Luna made no effort to free her hand either.


	14. Chapter 14: The Hunt Begins

Over the next few weeks, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Luna practiced constantly in their Animagus training. Over those long hours in the Room of Requirement, Harry had managed to change his arms into the much shorter ones of a black wolf, and Ron had succeeded in comically giving himself animal’s head.   
  
Hermione, to much personal distress, had so far been unable to change any of her body at all, except for growing a light coat of fur all over her body, which left her hiding in a bathroom until Sarah put her right. Ron and Harry seemed to find this more significant and amusing than anyone else, but warned the other four not to laugh too openly for whatever reason.  
  
Luna, however, had now completely transformed into a white-blond wolf twice, resulting in Ron nearly having a heart attack when she surprised him as he entered the Room of Requirement one day. Michael was surprised – he had pegged Harry as the quickest to reach total transformation first. But Luna seemed to find the abstract concepts of human-animal self Transfiguration easily graspable and as a result, could now prowl with Michael and the others at will.  
  
“I'm still not getting it!” Hermione cried exasperatedly during a practice session in the Room. Luna had just morphed back to human form for the third time, after a race with Michael around the room, during which the others cheered loudly for one or the other.   
  
“It takes time,” Michael said patiently. “It took me a while too, and you guys have only been at it for three weeks. Just keep working at it.”   
  
“I  _have been_  working at it” she said resentfully. “It doesn’t work right for me, maybe I'm doing it wrong.” Michael had been warned by Ron after a particularly explosive evening with Hermione that she did not handle failure well in even this vaguely academic setting.  
  
“Listen, what you’ve got to understand, is that this isn’t normal for an Animagus,” he told her. “Most Wizards just become the animal that fits closest to their personality, or one they like. You aren’t anything like a wolf, Hermione. Or you're at least less than the rest of us, so it’s going to be harder for you. It’s just something you'll have to get past, if you want. I mean, there’s no reason you  _have_ to become a wolf if you don't want to.”   
  
“See, Hermione,” said Ron from the side of the room where he and Harry were working, “you just have to be more vicious, come on!” With that he reared back his head, which became elongated into that of a burgundy wolf, and let out an earsplitting howl.   
  
“Maybe she should spend more time talking to you Ron,” Luna suggested mildly. “That always seems to make her mad.”   
  
“No thank you, Luna,” Hermione said testily, “I'd rather throw myself at the mercy of the Death Eaters than spend more time talking to him!” she said, pointing a finger at Ron.   
  
"What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron asked angrily.   
  
Before Hermione could answer however, Michael held up one hand to quiet her and patted his pocket with his other hand. Looking surprised, he plunged his hand into his pocket and extracted the small stone disc. He looked at the side of the stone. The letters spelling out the name “ _Cassandra Sleigh_ ” rotated around the side of the disc, illuminated in bright orange, almost fiery, writing. Michael tapped the disc with his wand.  
  
A woman appeared in a small flickering form, but Michael turned away so no one could see and spoke quietly. He could hear the others speaking behind him even while he tried to pay attention to what   
  
“What’s he doing?” Harry asked Jeff and Sarah, who had been dueling, but stopped to watch Michael curiously.  
  
“It’s a Morgana Disc,” Jeff said, pulling out his own. “Or MD for short. Named for the creator of the spell, STRIKE agent back in the eighties. They work similarly to a Protean Charm,” he said to Hermione, who nodded, “but allow for face to face communication. I’d love to get you four some, but well…we’re kind of trying to stay as far away from STRIKE as possible at the moment.  
  
“Because of me,” Luna said to the others quietly, so that the woman Michael spoke to couldn’t hear her. “Michael thinks STRIKE may try to kill him if they find out we’re friends. I hope they don't – I don't want to have to fight the people my mum worked with.”  
  
Jeff and Sarah shared a serious look.  
  
“STRIKE won't kill him,” Sarah said to Luna after a moment. “I…we have friends there. They wouldn’t try to kill us.”  
  
“I hope not.”  
  
“Are you sure?” Michael was saying sharply, “Completely sure? Well, which one is it?”   
  
Everyone behind him shared a look of shock and anticipation. Ron looked like he might be sick, and he asked, “Is he saying what I think he’s saying? Have your people found one of the Slytherin Seven?”   
  
“Not that I heard about,” Sarah said, checking her MD as well. “I guess they just tried to contact Michael, he is in charge….”   
  
Michael spoke in a rush, almost finished with his call, “Okay, I’ll check it out… right, talk to you later.” He tapped the disc again, vanishing the woman, and turned back to his friends, looking grave despite his best attempt at casualness.  
  
“What’s going on?” Harry asked immediately. “Have you found one of the Seven?”   
  
“Yes, Cassandra from Intelligence certainly thinks so,” he said, “and her information is usually good, so this is probably the real deal.”   
  
“Which one is it?” Ron asked, obviously trying to look calm. “And where?”   
  
“It’s the Ring,” he said nodding at Ron. Ron let out a deep breath. “And as for the location, it’s believed to be on an island in the Caribbean, on the island of St. Lucia. It’s about two hundred and thirty miles, Cassandra says. And… I think about a hundred and sixty thousand people. I leave tomorrow.” He tried very hard to add in the last statement as if it was nothing, but all six of his friends were too sharp to be fooled.  
  
Luna eyed him innocently, “Don’t you mean we leave tomorrow?”   
  
“No, I'm going this alone…not because it’s dangerous!” he added quickly. “Because I can handle it alone, there’s no need for you all to leave school!”   
  
“What about Jeff and Sarah?” Hermione asked, gesturing at the irritated faces of the other two STRIKE agents. “They can leave, why they aren’t going? You’re hiding something.”   
  
“It’s easy to read you,” Luna said quietly. “What aren’t you telling us?”   
  
He looked at them all steadily, into Harry and Hermione’s suspicious faces, Ron’s nervous one, into Jeff and Sarah’s looks of annoyance, and Luna’s plain curiosity.   
  
“Fine, you deserve to know what’s really going on here. You all know that Voldemort’s after the Seven too?” They all nodded, having explained it all to Luna weeks ago. “Well, the word is he’s hired a new agent to hunt them for him.”   
  
“A new Death Eater?” Harry asked.   
  
“No, not from what I've heard. This Wizard is working for profit, and he hasn’t got a Dark Mark, as far as we know.”   
  
“So he’s a mercenary,” Jeff said, pulling out his wand. “Voldemort’s already that desperate, huh? No problem, what can one idiot do against the seven of us?” he asked proudly.   
  
“Too much” Michael said shortly. “No one’s seen his face or knows his a name, but he’s already personally responsible for the deaths of ten different STRIKE agents. So far.”   
  
“Ten agents?” Sarah repeated, her face contorted with disgust. “That’s – that’s impossible. Only Voldemort could….”  
  
Michael shook his head. “I don’t know how this guy is so powerful, but Cassandra thinks that there’s a good chance he’s gotten wind of the Ring’s location too…so I'm going myself, posing as a tourist.”   
  
“Michael, if this was able to take ten of us down…” Jeff began, but he cut across him.   
  
“Then it’s better he only has one more target, instead of seven. Don’t worry about me, I can handle this…” he finished bravely, with a blatantly fake smile. No one returned it, they were too busy staring at him coldly.   
  
Finally, Ron spoke. “If we’re not going to help you find the Seven, what have we been training for?” he asked angrily.   
  
“To be able to protect yourselves!” Michael said loudly, exploding so suddenly it surprised even himself. “I only wanted Jeff and Sarah to help find the Seven, and not with this! This is too much, even I'm in over my head!” He threw his hands up, both angry and a little scared. “But this has to be done, and I'm not going to let this maniac kill my friends! Luna, I just got you back, you think I'm going to risk losing you?” He shook his head and glared down at his feet. No one said anything for a moment.  
  
Then Harry took a step towards him. “Who the hell do you think you are, anyway?” he demanded angrily. Michael raised his eyebrows and met Harry’s fierce look with a coldly surprised one. Neither Wizard made any move to back down. “Where do you get off, acting so superior?” Harry went on, taking another aggressive step towards Michael.  
  
Michael's hand scratched at his right pant leg, brushing up against the wand in his pocket. “I'm  _trained_ for this, Harry,” Michael said, trying hard not to let too much anger take his voice. “I'm in charge of the main military branch of STRIKE. I've been an Auror. I'm a soldier Harry. You're not. None of you are, except Jeff and Sarah.”  
  
“That's impressive,” Harry said, a Snape-like sneer curling across his face, “except it hasn’t helped you handle Voldemort any better than I have! So what if you're ‘trained’ to fight him? I'm not, and I've been just as successful as you! What does that say?”  
  
“That we’ve both been lucky,” Michael muttered, shaking his head. “You should know, Harry, that fighting Voldemort and his Death Eaters isn’t just learning spells and tactics and plans. There's more to it.”  
  
“I know –”  
  
“You have to be ready to kill,” Michael said bluntly, looking anywhere except at Luna. “If any of you come with me, it means you're accepting the chance – however small – that you may have to take another person’s life. And you want me to be the one who drags you to that decision? That's what you all want to put on me? It’s not one you can just come back from.”  
  
“You're not my boss and you're not my mother,” Ron said defiantly, moving to back Harry up with both speech and physical displays.  
  
“No,” Michael snapped back. “But I don't want to have a hand in changing your life like this because I'm your friend!”  
  
“Michael,” Luna said softly, walking over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. She lifted his chin with a finger and looked directly into his eyes. “Michael, we all feel the same way about you. I feel the same way. We can't let you do this alone, you said that you didn’t want us to die, right? Well, I know the worry would kill me. Please, let us do this. I care about you very much, I don't want you to be hurt.”   
  
“Luna…I just don't want you to have to hurt people,” Michael muttered to the side of her face. “It’s not in your nature.”  
  
“There's a difference between looking to fight because you want to hurt people and doing it to protect yourself, or others, or an idea,” Luna said, much more seriously than Michael expected. “We all have to play a role in this war, there's no avoiding it. That’s not your fault – it’s his.”  
  
He stared at her for a long time. Then he glanced around at all the others, who were watching them, looking slightly uncomfortable at Luna’s pronouncement. Harry and Ron had relaxed slightly and were no longer staring death at the pair of them.  
  
“You all feel the same?” he asked his friends. “You really want to go with me to do this? Even knowing what could be waiting for us?”  
  
“Come on, Michael!” Jeff said. “When have any of us, especially you, ever cared about what could happen? Let’s say in a worst case scenario, we do end up in a fight with this guy. So what? We’ve taken scum like this before!”   
  
“Whatever it is we’re heading into, I've probably faced worse,” Harry said, unable to keep a little snark from his voice.   
  
“And you need me” Ron reminded him. “You can't destroy it if I'm not there with you when we find it.”   
  
“So it’s settled then,” Sarah said happily, “We’re all taking a vacation to the Caribbean! This is going to be great, I haven't been to the beach in too long!”   
  
Michael couldn’t help but smile. “All right, we’ll do it together” he told them, “but Dumbledore’ll have to clear it for you four,” he said to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Luna.   
  
“Don’t worry about Dumbledore,” Harry said confidently, “leave him to me.”   
  
“Harry’s his favorite,” Ron told Michael, “He wouldn’t tell him no to anything. Come to think of it, he probably wouldn’t say no to you either!”   
  
“Speaking of you and Dumbledore,” Hermione said as they exited the Room, “What ever happened to Professor Snape?”   
  
Michael growled angrily. Snape had still not been freed, though Dumbledore was putting his best efforts into it. His trial date was set for two months in the future, which meant that if Scrimgeour got his way, Snape would spend at least three months in Azkaban, even if he was found innocent.   
  
“Dumbledore’s working on it,” he told them crossly. “And I'm not to interfere.”   
  
“Interfere?” Ron repeated. “What do you mean?”   
  
He explained to them how Scrimgeour had destroyed his statement, and how he had agreed not to do anything to anger the Minister. He finished his tale right as they slid into their usual places at the Gryffindor table: Hermione, Harry, and Sarah on one side with Ron, Jeff, Michael, and Luna on the other.   
  
Following dinner, Harry set off for the Headmaster’s office to acquire Dumbledore’s permission. The five Gryffindors said goodbye to Luna and headed for their common room, finding it pleasantly quiet. Michael explained that they would take a Portkey directly onto a cruise ship which was bound for St. Lucia.  
  
“A Muggle cruise boat, huh?” Ron had asked, looking at Hermione, clearly trying to decide whether or not he would like it.  
  
“Nope,” Michael corrected him. “Wizarding. Only one in the world, actually, so enjoy full use of magic while we’re onboard.”  
  
“I didn’t even know Wizards had ships like that,” Ron said.  
  
“Sarah did,” Jeff said under his breath.  
  
“I'm not that rich!” Sarah said defensively, crossing her arms.  
  
“Oh no, you just take a trip on the only Wizarding cruise line once a year because you get discount coupons from Butterbeer bottles.”  
  
“Anyway,” Michael said over his friends’ chatter, “yes, it’s the only one. There’s not that many Wizards in the world, but the one ship always fills up. It goes all around the world; lucky for us it’s making a stop in the Caribbean.”  
  
Most of the tourists to the island came from a boat, and it would help their cover to appear as normal as possible, in case they were being watched. Much to Sarah’s displeasure, Michael informed them that as they had no idea how close the unknown mercenary was to finding the Ring, there was no time to actually take the boat from port to port.   
  
Harry joined them about half an hour after dinner, looking grim and angry. He threw himself into one of the armchairs and addressed Ron and Hermione.   
  
“We’ve got a problem,” he sighed. “Dumbledore said that the only way the three of us could go is if we got our parents’ permission. Luna doesn’t need to because she’s of age, but we have to get these signed,” he said, handing them each a sheet of paper.   
  
Hermione read it quickly, then sat back, eyes closed, trying to decide how best to convince her parents to allow her to go. Ron however, looked miserable.   
  
“There’s no way my parents will sign this,” he said dejectedly, “Mum would go crazy if she knew what we were doing! Dumbledore knows, he doesn’t want us to go.”   
  
“Yeah, and this probably sounds like a vacation to the Durselys” Harry moaned. “They would never let me go if they think this is going to be fun. Maybe you can talk to him, Michael?”  
  
Michael shook his head immediately. Dumbledore was friendly personally and professionally, but he knew the headmaster would have serious issue with taking his three favorite students – one of whom supposedly held the key to defeating Voldemort – off on a dangerous search in the Caribbean.   
  
“Well, there is one thing…” Jeff said, glancing at Michael. “But it means lying to Dumbledore, and I suppose technically everyone else.”   
  
“Doubles?” Michael asked, raising an eyebrow. He hadn’t thought of that, Dumbledore seemed too knowing. But he  _was_ pretty good at deception himself…. “Who would do it?”   
  
“There are plenty of agents who would love a break from field work,” Jeff told him, glad he had caught on. “I bet we could get a couple of guys and a girl to do it.”   
  
“Do what?” Ron asked suspiciously.   
  
“I didn’t give you this idea,” Jeff said, looking at him sharply, “but it could be arranged for just me, Michael, Luna, and Sarah to leave…as far as Dumbledore would know, that is.”   
  
“Go on,” Harry said eagerly.   
  
“Well, we’d get a few hairs from each of you, and we’d, I don’t know, give them to three STRIKE agents, and maybe they come and stay at Hogwarts for a while,” Jeff said airily.   
  
“Sounds great,” Harry said, grinning. “When can we do this?”   
  
“I’ll contact them tonight,” Michael said, chuckling as Ron actually grabbed his own hair and yanked some out, eyes watering. “We’ll meet them somewhere and you can switch places. We can be on the ship by the afternoon,” he said, finally able to sound excited. “As long as everyone’s okay with that,” he added to Hermione.   
  
“Well, I don’t like lying to Professor Dumbledore,” she said, to pleading looks on Harry and Ron’s faces. “But what would you do without me?”  
  
“Lose a lot of fights?” Luna suggested.  
  
“So you’re going?” Ron asked, ignoring Luna.  
  
“Yes, I suppose so,” she said with a sigh.   
  
“Don’t sound so excited, Hermione,” Sarah said sarcastically. “This is a mission we’re on, as Michael has been so kind as to point out eighty-three times in the last hour. No fun for us.”   
  
The others went up to their dorms, but Michael stayed awake for another hour, calling contacts and favors. After finally arranging the details for their escape tomorrow, he went to bed too.   
  
Michael slept surprisingly easily that night, and woke up feeling energized and a little nervous. They packed their trunks and magically sent them to the location Michael told them. They hurried down to the Great Hall, but not to breakfast. Instead, they turned down a deserted corridor, away from everyone else in the school. They met Luna outside their destination, the bathrooms. She like the others, was dressed in Muggle clothing: khaki shorts and a plain white tank top, along with a necklace of corks. Michael hadn’t seen her in anything but school robes. She looked nice.  
  
She and Michael smiled at each other. Feeling his face get a little warm, Michael hastily looked around at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, but Luna didn’t waver. “You smell nice,” she said pleasantly. Jeff stifled a snort with his mouth closed.   
  
“Thanks,” Michael said, punching Jeff in the upper arm. “I like your necklace.”  
  
“Butterbeer corks,” she said, beaming.  
  
“Ready to go?” Sarah asked.   
  
“Almost,” Michael replied, “Just got to get these three into character.” With that he, Jeff, Ron, and Harry entered the boys’ bathroom, Hermione and Sarah the other. Luna put her hands behind her back and swayed back and forth, humming happily.  
  
“You guys in here?” Michael called around the apparently vacant room.   
  
“Here,” a voice answered gruffly.   
  
With a flourish, two men pulled off the invisibility cloak they had been under and stopped forward to greet them. One of them shook hands with Michael and Jeff first, then with Harry and Ron. One man was bulky and powerfully built, looking interested at this newest assignment. The other man resembled Jeff, but with a more lanky frame, though a cleverer, slightly more arrogant, face.   
  
“Lock the door,” the second man said sharply to Harry. Harry looked taken aback by the command, but drew out his wand and did what he was told. Jeff glared at him, but said nothing.  
  
“Thanks for doing this,” Michael told them, holding out a strand of black and a strand of red hair. He put each in a different fist behind his back, then held his clenched fists out to them. “Pick one,” he said.   
  
The larger man tapped his right hand, and Michael held out the black hair to him. “Well, Kevin, looks like you get to be Harry Potter for a while. This should be…different.” He laughed to himself and shook his head at the ground.   
  
“So I'm Ron Weasley then,” the other man said indifferently, “Any major enemies to watch out for?” he added to Ron, who shook his head. “Too bad, I was looking forward to a fight.”   
  
“You four can go ahead and go,” Kevin told them, “Me and Jace already have the potion mixed, we just need to add the hairs…oh, and here’s the Portkey,” he added, handing Michael a Muggle playing card.   
  
“Alright, and thanks again,” Michael said, turning to leave.   
  
“Good seeing you Kevin,” Jeff said pointedly. “Take care of yourself.” He too started to leave, but the other man called after him.  
  
 “What Jeff? Nothing to say to your own brother? Think you’re too cool now that you’ve got a secret mission?”   
  
“Fuck off, Jace” Jeff said curtly. “I don’t have time for your shit right now.”   
  
“Whatever you say, man,” Jace chuckled scornfully. “Have fun on your vacation, I’ll be here, like always, left to clean up your mess.”   
  
Jeff made to shout back at him, but Michael pulled him out the door. “He’s not worth it,” he said quietly. “If you two end up fighting, it will draw all kinds of attention we don’t need!”   
  
“You're one to talk –!” Jeff seethed as the door swung shut.  
  
“Is something wrong?” Luna asked politely, “I could hear you yelling. Very loudly.”   
  
“Just a little family reunion,” Jeff said shortly.   
  
“Jeff never got along with his brother Jace,” Michael told her, still waiting for Hermione and Sarah to come out.   
  
“Gee, what was your first clue?” Jeff snarled. Michael said nothing, he knew Jeff’s anger would dissolve once they got on the boat and he saw a few girls in their swimsuits. That always seemed to help.   
  
Hermione and Sarah emerged a minute later, and they all checked the possessions they had on them. All fingered their wands, and Harry touched the Invisibility Cloak inside his robes. Satisfied they were not missing anything, they all touched a finger to their Portkey, glanced around one last time while Michael counted, “Three, two, one!”   
  
At end of the count they were all jerked forward, spinning rapidly, trying to stop from yelling, though there was no one to hear them. A second later, the spinning stopped and Michael felt the warm sun on his face. All around them noises of splashing and yelling filled their ears.   
  
He opened his eyes and looked around. They were standing on the deck of a colossal ship, surrounded by people enjoying themselves on their vacation. Not far from them was a long pool, where a group of kids were throwing Fanged Frisbee at each other, standing in the shallow end and trying to dodge the dangerous projectile. Michael couldn't help but smirk when Jeff nudged him, discreetly pointing at the chairs set up all around the pool, most of which were occupied by very pretty girls wearing very little clothing.   
  
A man with a bushy mustache came striding over to them, and judging by his attire, he seemed to be the captain. He shook hands with them all and greeted them warmly.  
  
“Ah, welcome, my friends,” he said grandly, “to the finest – and only – Wizarding cruise ship on the sea! The  _Merlin_  is not only largest ship on the water, but also the fastest. I am correct in assuming I am speaking to the Jacobs party, am I not?”   
  
“Yes, you are” Michael said. “This is an amazing ship you’ve got, too bad we won't be able to take a full cruise.”   
  
“Ah yes, most unfortunate!” he cried dramatically, as if being denied a trip on his boat was the most wretched thing he could imagine. “But urgent duty calls, sir! Duty calls! Do tell Captain Anya I said hello, won't you?” he added with a wink.   
  
“Yes, of course,” Michael said obligingly, grinning.  
  
“Well, I imagine you all want to take a look around, so I’ll leave you to it! If you’ll all place your thumbs on these,” he said, thrusting three pieces of plastic into each person’s hand. “These will learn your fingerprint and enchant your room to only open to your touch.” Each person did as they were told, and then handed back their cards to the captain. “Thank you very much, your bags will be in your rooms, which will open to you now. Good day to you all!” With that, he walked flamboyantly away, loudly addressing another group of teenagers, all of whom looked extremely annoyed by this.   
  
“Do you, uh, know that guy, Michael?” Ron asked, still chuckling. “Cause he was kind of…strange.”   
  
“Yeah, I know,” Michael muttered, gesturing for them to follow as he headed away from the pool, in the direction of the cabins. “But he owes STRIKE a favor, so we’re going with it.”   
  
“A favor?” Luna inquired.   
  
“Yeah. Go figure, but the world’s only Wizarding cruise ship attracted the attention of pirates early on in its maiden voyage,” Michael said distractedly. “They put out a call for help, of course, but being the Aurors international response time is pretty sluggish, even though the  _Merlin_ is a British vessel. STRIKE got there first and handled it. The company that owns the ship was thankful enough to authorize this not-quite-legal Portkey for us to get onboard.” He laughed. “One of our Captains, a woman named Anya, led the strike team. I think the sea captain ended up a little infatuated with his STRIKE counterpart.” They reached their set of cabins, situated comfortably on a low floor, near the ship’s railing. Michael reached out and grabbed the doorknob, which vibrated for a moment, then allowed itself to be turned. Michael opened the door and investigated the room.   
  
It was rather small, with two cramped beds and a refrigerator. Other than that there was a bit of furniture, but Michael had the idea that the designer was trying to encourage his patrons to spend their time out and about the ship. He had to admit, it was a nice boat, and he didn’t need much persuading. He also noticed that his and Jeff’s bags were sitting on the middle of each bed.   
  
“Okay, so Jeff and I will take this one,” Michael said. “And Harry and Ron can take the next one…and the girls will be in the farthest. Don’t worry,” he added as they glanced around the tiny room skeptically. “It’s enlarged to fit three.”   
  
“Thank God,” Sarah said gratefully. “But who cares about that now? Let’s go do something!”   
  
“We’re here all day, and about half of tomorrow” Michael told them. “So enjoy the relaxation while you can.” He felt weird giving his friends directions like this, especially as he planned on having plenty of fun himself. Now if he could just get her alone….  
  
“What are you planning to do with your time?” Luna asked him.   
  
Michael grinned. “For the next day and a half, Luna, I'm doing whatever the hell I want.”  
  
“Well, we’re all going to the pool,” Luna said, indicating herself, Hermione, and Sarah. “Be sure not to fall off the boat, I hear there are Venomous Bitingrocks around here,” she added seriously. Sarah giggled.  
  
“What exactly is a Venomous Bitingrock?” Ron asked warily.   
  
“Oh, they’re living rocks on the seafloor” she told him patiently. “They have little beady eyes, and sharp teeth so that when you get near one they –”   
  
“Come on, let’s go change,” Hermione said, grabbing Luna by the arm and steering her out of the room, Sarah following, still giggling.   
  
Harry, Ron, and Jeff all rounded on Michael, wearing similar looks of hilarity.   
  
“What?” Michael said defiantly.   
  
“Good luck with that one,” Jeff said, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “I think you’re going to have your hands full with her.”   
  
“What are you talking about?” he asked angrily, ducking out from under Jeff's arm.   
  
Nobody answered him, but Ron and Harry looked at each other and seemed to decide it was time to leave. “We’re going to change too,” they called as they escaped the room. “We’ll figure out what to then.”   
  
“Shut up about her,” Michael snapped at Jeff. “Don’t say shit like that around me.”   
  
“What?” said Jeff, looking startled, “Nah, you’ve got it wrong, man. We weren't making fun of her…and she can stick up for herself anyway. I don't think she’s too worried about it.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Michael said, taking a breath. “It’s just she told me about all the crap she used to get as a kid at Hogwarts, and it pissed me off…she doesn’t need that from her friends.”  
  
“But that's what friends do,” Jeff persisted.  
  
Michael sighed. “Yeah, we do, don't we? Luna…”  
  
“Wouldn’t want us to treat her differently. However different she is.”  
  
Michael couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Yeah, I think you're right. Damn, I need to relax. Let’s go find the others.”  
  
“Great, let’s go”   
  
The left the cabin and headed for the pool. They found Harry and Ron, both wearing shorts now, standing frozen and staring openmouthed.   
  
“What are you guys…?” Michael started to ask, but trailed off into similar stupid stuttering as he saw what they were looking at.   
  
Hermione, Sarah, and Luna had chosen three chairs next to each other and were lying draped out across their chairs, basking in the early morning sun. While Hermione had chosen to retain some mystery in a loose shirt and shorts, Luna had settled on a very pretty one-piece swimsuit whose hourglass shape left much of the sides of her stomach exposed. Sarah meanwhile had simply stripped down to a pink bikini, one which lacked much fabric and showed off much more than either of the other two girls. She seemed both aware of and indifferent to this fact.  
  
 Michael looked at them, glanced at the other boys, then immediately back to them.   
  
“Hi, come over here!” Luna called, sitting up as she become aware of them. She waved them over enthusiastically, while Sarah and Hermione looked at them suspiciously.   
  
“How long have been standing there?” Sarah asked as they plopped down into seats next to them.   
  
“Why do you ask?” Michael asked, pulling off his shirt. “Were you doing something you wouldn’t want us to see?”   
  
“Not at all,” Sarah said smoothly. Michael was actually glad Sarah was lecturing him; Ron and Harry seemed a little shell shocked. Both boys seemed to have forgotten themselves and Michael hoped no one else would notice where their eyes were firmly fixed. “But you two,” she nodded to Michael and Jeff, “know how much women like to be ogled.”   
  
“I prefer the term ‘intense observation’,” Jeff told her.   
  
“So…are you a stalker then?” Luna asked, apparently genuinely wanting to know.   
  
Everyone except Jeff laughed, while he muttered, “Only on weekends. I must be good if you haven't caught me yet.” At this Michael nodded to Harry and Ron, who stood up and looked menacingly down at Jeff.   
  
“Where’re we going guys? Guys?”   
  
Together they dragged him out of his chair, and Michael holding his upper body, the other two each a leg, flung him unceremoniously into the pool, to applause from all three girls. They wiped their hands together, as if they had touched something dirty, before Harry and Ron returned to their seats, and Michael dove into the pool after Jeff.   
  
He surfaced a few feet away from where he had gone under, looking around for his best friend. He turned and looked at the others, who all shrugged their uncertainty. Then, silent as death, Jeff rose up out of the water behind him and grabbed Michael roughly around the neck, pulling him under.   
  
Sarah and Luna continued to laugh as Harry and Ron jumped in to join them, creating a surprisingly large set of waves. The girls joined them later, and they spent the next hour playing chicken. Harry and Ron alternating pairing up with Hermione, against Jeff and Sarah, and Michael and Luna.   
  
Michael and Luna lounged against the pool wall, having been the first pair knocked out, watching the others. Michael felt good about everything that was going on. Harry was a fun and pleasant person, he reflected as he watched Sarah growing steadily more competitive and angry, but he had gotten the feeling since the first time they met that Harry just needed to  _relax_. From what Harry had told him, his life didn’t leave much room for fun relaxation and he was glad to see his friend unwinding. In her own way, Sarah was also unwinding.  
  
“Sarah doesn’t like to lose, does she?” Luna observed casually to Michael.  
  
“No, no she doesn’t,” Michael agreed. “I don't think there was any need to call Hermione a bitch…or do that,” he added as Sarah, apparently tired of struggling with the much meeker Hermione, fell forward off Jeff’s shoulders, taking Hermione with her into the water. Michael felt very proud of himself for not staring.  
  
The rest of the day, they chose to unwind by working off their excess energy on a rock wall, the volleyball court, (Jeff complaining loudly) and back to the pool in turn. Michael loved every second of it. This was all very foreign to him. He had had plenty of fun in school and even some in STRIKE, but this carefree day with his friends was not something he was used to. Even as his best friend moaned and groaned about their choice of activities, Michael knew Jeff too was enjoying himself. It was nice to be a teenager, at least once in a while. Around six that evening an announcement called the guests to the dining hall for dinner.   
  
As they entered they magnificent banquette hall, Michael glanced around, and was immediately impressed. There were a number of long tables, similar to the house tables at Hogwarts, and several smaller, circular ones scattered throughout the room. Expensive crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling and they tinkled slightly as the ship was rocked by an occasional wave. They barely had time to take in the scene, however, as they were immediately hailed by the ship captain. “Mr. Jacobs!” he called to them, waving them over. “And his friends too! Please, there are some people I’d love you to meet!”   
  
Michael reluctantly obeyed, the others following close behind, all horribly aware that they were still wearing the clothes they had worn all day, plus a shirt and shorts for the girls. As soon as they reached the captain and his group, he wrung Michael's hand enthusiastically and introduced him to what were evidently the elder members of an important pureblood family out on an anniversary trip. They spoke to each other politely, but before long Sarah had wiggled them out of the unwanted conversation, done with such polite finesse Michael barely noticed they were getting up to leave.   
  
“You learn these things out of necessity,” she muttered to the rest of the obviously impressed group as they searched for a new place to sit. “I wasn’t so polite about it when I was a kid, but I've never been a fan of all the parties and dignitaries and  _people_ Dad brought me around. Too stuffy.”  
  
They found a small, empty table at the far side of the dining room and sat down around it. Waiters in crisp suits soon descended on them, asking for their orders. Hermione was studying her menu, looking distressed.   
  
“This is all so expensive!” she said to Michael. “We can't make you pay for this!”   
  
“I can” said Jeff, looking up from his menu and saying to the waiter. “Let’s see…I’ll have the lobster, actually two…and some of those potatoes too…and let’s say, a nice steak?” The waiter nodded, looking slightly disgusted. Michael was nothing but impressed.  
  
“How is that even possible?” Sarah asked, barely covering a snort with her napkin. “How do you even fit into human clothes?”   
  
“Hey, words hurt,” Ron put in with a glance at Hermione.   
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Michael said with a grin. “You didn’t really think I was about to pay for all this myself, did you? Nope, we’re on the company dollar. And in case you're forgetting, they're probably going to make a big thing about attacking me at some point. So….”   
  
Ron grinned gleefully. “In that case…” He proceeded to order a meal as large as Jeff’s, to a similar look from Hermione.   
  
“And what would you like, sir?” the waiter asked, coming to Michael. Michael considered himself somewhat well traveled, yet had minor difficulties understanding the English hidden beneath the heavy French accent.  
  
“Can I get a hamburger?” Michael asked, thumbing through the menu. He felt strangely awkward about the order.  
  
“A hamburger?” the waiter repeated incredulously. Michael wasn’t sure where the awkwardness was coming from – he certainly didn’t care about his order seeming strange to the waiter. He was paying them, after all.  
  
“Yeah, with everything. How can that possibly be harder than making lobster?” he asked with a glance at Jeff. He suddenly realized why he was regretting the burger order – he would’ve liked to impress Luna with something fancy.  
  
The waiter sighed importantly. “Yes I suppose that can be arranged. One hamburger then?”   
  
“Two,” said Jeff immediately.   
  
“No, three” Ron corrected him.   
  
“Go ahead and make it four, please,” Luna told him. “It’s been a while since I've had a hamburger.” The waiter collected their menus and disappeared into the kitchen, shaking his head disbelievingly.   
  
After dinner, they returned to their spot beside the pool, which was now illuminated by burning tiki-torches. The sky had turned from bright blue to a cool purple, mixed with streaks of orange from the fading sun. This time of day was always Michael's favorite. It was the time most fun things happened, in addition to being, frankly, beautiful. They lounged around for a while, before Sarah started complaining.   
  
“I'm bored,” she said to the group at large, “Nothing’s happening.”   
  
"Then make something happen," Jeff said indifferently.   
  
"No, entertain me!" Sarah said defiantly.  
  
"Oh, sure, Princess," Jeff rolled his eyes. "What, should I do a dance for you?"  
  
"Please don't," Sarah sighed, but Jeff was already on his feet. Michael stood up too.   
  
“Hey Luna, can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.  
  
She looked slightly surprised, which was saying something, but stood up and allowed him to lead her away from the others, over to the edge of the ship, where they were almost totally alone, save for a few strangers moving here and there, on their way to another fun activity. Michael leaned out over the railing, not looking at her. Luna didn’t press him, instead she copied his stance. They simply stood, side by side, hanging over the railing and watching the sun sink lower and lower.  
  
“This is lovely,” Luna said vaguely, as the silence became more pressing. “I've never been on a boat before at all. I always thought it would be fun – I'm glad I was right. I don't think it would be as much fun without you, though.”  
  
“I was thinking…” Michael said, still gazing out at the sea and not following her train of conversation, “about what you said a few weeks ago, after I showed you all my wolf form.” Over the horizon, clouds were beginning to gather and the wind picked up slightly. A storm was soon coming.   
  
“You mean after you said something about snakes,” she said, nodding. “But what did I say?”   
  
“You said you remembered that…” he said quietly, his voice nearly inaudible over the wind that was now blowing about them. “That got me thinking. If you remembered something as stupid as the little things I said when we were kids, why would it be impossible for you to remember everything?”   
  
“You think you can do it?” Luna asked hopefully. The wind was now blowing her hair so much her face was completely hidden behind it. “You’d have to undo the magic that your General did. Do you think you can?”  
  
“Luna, you believe so many things, can't you believe this?” he asked, turning to look at her. “I've been in the library at Hogwarts, in the Restricted Section, and I think I might have found a way to bring back at least something. I was saving that little bit of information to surprise you with.”   
  
Luna reached out and pulled her hair together with her right hand, holding it in a makeshift ponytail away from her face so she could look at him. “You think you could fix me?”   
  
“Don’t ever say that again about yourself,” he said harshly, suddenly clenching the handrail much tighter. “There’s nothing wrong with you, nothing to fix. Your memories are screwed up, not you.”   
  
“But I'm Looney Lovegood,” she said, smiling wryly. “Everyone else seems to think there’s something wrong with me.”   
  
Michael looked terrifyingly angry now. Thunder crashed off in the distance as he spoke. “I don’t think that, and neither do any of those people waiting for us back at the pool. It’s your memories that need altering, not you!”   
  
He continued to look furious and livid, then glimpsed her face, and his expression changed. She continued to smile gently at him.  
  
“I know that,” she said, her eyes on his hands. “But it was nice to hear you say it.”  
  
“I'm sorry,” he told her gently, “it’s not your fault…look, my research is almost done, but I still don’t feel comfortable trying it on you. So here’s what I’ll do: When we all get off this island, with the Ring, everyone alive, and get back to school, I’ll do a bit more studying, and then I’ll see what I can do. Okay? And any help you can provide would be a big boon.”   
  
“What's giving you trouble?”  
  
Michael shrugged. “This isn’t any simple Memory Charm,” he admitted. “If it was, Hermione would probably be able to fill in enough gaps to help me figure it out. But you had your mind – not your brain, your mind – damaged by a spell that generally only harms physically. After that your memories were basically stitched back together with a precise needle and steady hands, only to have one major thread suddenly torn back out. Your mind’s become an extremely complex thing because of it Luna. I expect it would be very difficult to use Legilmency on you effectively.”  
  
“Hmmm.” Luna let her hair go free again, but caught a few strands and placed them in her mouth as she stared thoughtfully over the edge. “Michael,” she said after a moment.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I don't think you're going to be able to bring out just one particular set of memories for me,” she said, turning to look him full in the face. “Not like this.”  
  
Michael's heart dropped. “Luna, why not? We can make progress, we can figure this out –”  
  
“Oh, I already have,” Luna said dreamily. She only now seemed to notice the hair in her mouth and brushed it away. “You're going to have to start from scratch to do this.”  
  
“Start from scratch?” Michael repeated, trying to understand what she was getting at.  
  
“Yes,” Luna said plainly. “You're going to have to wipe my memories and start over, restore them all at once. You need a blank sleight to work with. You need my mind completely uncluttered, which, admittedly, might be a little difficult. But it’s the only way you’ll be able to sift through the altercations and put everything right.”  
  
Michael couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Luna had not only solved this riddle, but was now trusting him to basically destroy her mind a second time and put it back together? Michael was a skilled Wizard and had been preparing for something like this, but not  _this_.  
  
“Luna…that's incredibly dangerous,” Michael said as seriously as he ever had. She nodded agreement, but didn’t seem to share his level of concern. “How would I be able to process  _every_ memory you already have, plus the ones buried in you that we need to bring up?”  
  
“Well, you already said it,” Luna smiled. “Use Legilmency on me. Go through my mind and learn everything you possibly can about me, so when you start to rebuilt it, you’ll know everything that needs to go there. We’ll make a backup of my mind within yours.”  
  
 _Don't say crazy, don't say crazy, don't say crazy._  
  
“Luna, this sounds crazy,” Michael blurted, unable to stop himself. It really did. He defended Luna from so much criticism – whether she needed it or not – but this was true madness. This was insane. This was the start of something neither of them would ever be able to come back from.   
  
“I’ll give you all access,” Luna said, unfazed. “You said Legilmency would be hard, but if I let you flow freely in my thoughts, it should work. I suppose we could try a Pensieve, but I don't think that would work the same. It’s not just memories you need to understand, it’s  _me_. Plus I don’t think my mind would fit inside a regular Pensieve,” she added fairly.  
  
“Let me get this straight,” Michael said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You want me to take a stroll through your mind – through you – learn to understand said mind and person, wipe your memories clean, and then use that knowledge as well as some other very difficult and finesse intensive spells to bring back your memories up till now, but with the addition of our time together as kids?” Luna nodded again, apparently glad Michael was grasping her plan. “You'd take such a huge risk just to get time together back?”  
  
“To get the truth,” Luna replied. But then she reached out and put a hand on top of his. “But I also want to get us back as well. It’s worth the risk and besides, I trust you.”  
  
“Then we’ll do it,” Michael decided on the spot. Now wasn’t the time for worrying or waffling or weakness. Now was the time to do this thing, for Luna and for himself. “I won't let you down, Luna. We’ll work on this together, and soon, we’ll set everything right.”  
  
“That sounds wonderful,” she said. “I just wish you could do it now.”   
  
“Me too,” he assured her. “But look at it this way; it will give you something to look forward to when we get back.”   
  
“That’s funny” she said softly, her expression suddenly changed, her eyes wider and brighter, slightly afraid but eager, her hand griping his much tighter. “I was going to say the same thing about doing this.”   
  
And then she was kissing him, and he was kissing her back. At first Michael felt only the sensation of their lips touching, but then as he leaned into her, something more sparked into being. Michael almost felt as if his brain was tingling, as if he was light-headed and had a sinus problem all at once. His eyes were shut, but images began to materialize in the darkness before him. A pair of children running across an idyllic green field just outside a small park, the girl barely ahead of the boy, both being watched from a distance by a blonde woman, her face smiling, her hand holding a wand casually at her side.  
  
He deepened the kiss, not wanting to ever let her go, and she responded in kind. After one more glorious moment, they broke apart, breathing deeply. Luna licked her lips uncharacteristically sensually, almost making Michael laugh. He was slightly too distracted to go through with it, however.  
  
“That was nice,” she whispered. She smacked her lips a few times, finally making him chuckle.  
  
“Thanks,” Michael panted. He had  _not_ expected that. He made a mental note to hope for a lot more things, if they were going to start coming true. “Where exactly did you learn to do that?”   
  
“Do what?” she asked.   
  
“That. The reason I have to stand facing away from everyone else now,” he replied, waggling his eyebrows.   
  
“Oh that,” she said, glancing down at him extremely quickly. She raised her own eyebrows. “Well, how about when you help me remember  _us_ , I’ll tell you about  _that_?”  
  
“So that’s how it’s gonna be?” he asked coolly. “Fine, after you can tell me the name of the dog we used to play with, you’ll tell me who taught you to do that.”  
  
“We used to play with a dog?” she asked. “Was it mine or yours?”   
  
“I don’t know, I can't seem to  _remember_ _,_ ” he said, putting emphasis on the last word.   
  
“All right, it’s a deal,” she said. “After you help me remember the name of the dog, I’ll tell you a little something.”   
  
“So do we shake on it, or…?” he trailed off and she smiled, kissed him one last time, and skipped back to the pool, leaving him leaning against the railing, watching as lightning flashed in the distance, the thunderstorm rolling steadily towards them.


	15. Chapter 15: Fire and Water

It was strange, Michael reflected, that on the only magical cruise ship on the water, so few people were using magic. He had expected to see Wizards and Witches enriching their vacations with magic everywhere he looked, rare as this privilege to so freely use their gifts was. But even as this thought befuddled him, it occurred to Michael that he himself had not once drawn his wand on this voyage. Maybe magic was as much a burden as it was a blessing, Michael reflected. Maybe this was a chance to be free from magic, not surrounded by it. The past few hours – especially the most recent minutes – had certainly been…ordinary. But in a good way.  
  
  
  
His hand was on his wand, in his pocket. Michael smirked to himself. Maybe ordinary was all right for a change, once in a while, but given the choice, he didn’t think he’d ever be able make it permanent. Being ordinary would exclude at least one very important part of his life.  
  
Michael joined the others back at the pool a few minutes later, receiving inquiring looks from everyone, particularly Jeff and Ron. Luna had apparently not seen fit to trouble them with what had taken place between them, so he answered their looks with only a shrug.   
  
They remained lounging on the rapidly darkening deck for a little while, small drops of water occasionally splashing their faces. Michael didn’t engage Luna in much further conversation – after what they had agreed to and shared, he didn’t feel like there was much else to be shared. Jeff seemed to pick up on this and gave him a few looks and elbows that made Michael think he suspected awkwardness, but Luna seemed not to mind. She reclined peacefully at the end of their row of chairs, her eyes shut, ignoring Harry, Ron, and Sarah’s conversation beside her.  
  
“Screw it, let’s go inside,” Michael relented after a while, once it began to rain heavily. The rain was unable to drown the magical fires illuminating the ship, but it was significant enough to end their fun. The group agreed as one and headed back to their cramped cabins, deciding to get some sleep before they began their hunt for the Ring of Four the next day.   
  
  
Michael and Jeff crammed themselves into their tiny room, and for the first time Michael was grateful they were only spending one day on the ship. He pulled on looser, more comfortable shorts and an old shirt with the outline of a howling wolf on it and climbed into his bed, facing the wall. He tried to go to sleep immediately, but Jeff didn’t seem ready to drift off yet.   
  
“So…that happened.”   
  
“I'm tired,” he replied, his voice muffled by his pillow.   
  
“No, that definitely happened,” Jeff said, and Michael knew he was grinning now. “You finally got her, huh? How was it?”   
  
“You sound like a gossipy preteen,” Michael muttered.   
  
“What’s wrong with you?” Jeff asked blankly, lying on his side, his chin resting on his palm. Michael rolled over to look at him.  
  
“Nothing, it’s just…I don’t know, forget it. The kiss was good,” he added, trying to change the subject.   
  
“I believe that,” Jeff said slowly. “But what’s with you, huh? Every time I bring up Luna, you get all serious and edgy and angry. I thought you were happy to be back with her?”   
  
Michael sighed deeply before he spoke, “I just…I don’t know if I did the right thing, you know? Bringing her into all this…I mean, I'm glad I told her about her mom, but now we’re going on this mission, possibly walking into the most dangerous enemy we’ve ever faced…Jeff, what if she gets hurt, what if she dies, and it’s my fault? What if  _she_ has to kill someone?”   
  
Jeff said nothing, he was listening to his friend, hearing exactly what he suspected might be wrong. He let him go on, obviously unsure what to say. Michael looked at him miserably.   
  
“It would be all my fault, and not just because I brought her into this. I'm supposed to be the leader, what if I'm not up to it? What if our enemy’s stronger than me, stronger than all of us? Jeff, we've never been in a situation like this before.”  
  
“Listen to me,” Jeff said firmly. “You are one of the best agents in STRIKE, there’s no denying it. And together, we’re also the best squad. We brought along the Chosen One and his danger-proof friends. And we’ve got Luna, who – I think you’ve noticed – is picking up every bit of magic you show her faster than anyone. Of course it’s going to be dangerous, we all knew that going in, but if we do want to survive, we have to keep our heads.   
  
"If you fall apart on us now, we won't stand a chance, and people will get hurt. So here’s what you do: Calm the fuck down. You want to keep Luna safe? Then be yourself and we’ll be fine like always, all right? You’re making this a bigger deal than it is.”   
  
“Yeah, yeah you’re right” Michael said, taking a breath. “But promise me one thing.”   
  
“Okay, what?” Jeff asked, slightly apprehensively.   
  
“If anything happens to me, get Luna out immediately. Get everyone out, but…she’d stay,” Michael said quietly. “If I died or was captured, she’d try to stay. Don't let her.”   
  
“Nobody’s dying!” Jeff almost yelled at him, apparently pushed too far.  
  
“Probably not!” Michael hissed back. “But if I do, I want you to make sure no one joins me! Dammit – is that so much to ask?”   
  
“What are you, scared?” Jeff demanded. The sneer he directed at his best friend soon dropped into a disbelieving frown. “I don't believe it. You are. Michael Jacobs, STRIKE’s wonder boy Captain, scared.”  
  
“Not for myself!” Michael growled at him. He had to strain greatly to keep his voice down. He didn’t want a noise complaint from a neighbor, or, worse, one of the others to hear him. “I'm not worried about myself, okay? I just….”  
  
“Am on a responsibility power trip,” Jeff finished. Shockingly, he smiled. “Michael, buddy, you have to stop this. We’re all adults – or close enough. Luna’s seventeen. She’s made a choice on her own. And more importantly, she’s a damn powerful Witch. If anyone comes close to killing you, I think it’s them I’d worry about, not her.”  
  
Michael stared at Jeff. It was too simple. His answer was too easy, offered too convenient a way out. It couldn’t be true…could it? Jeff chuckled and shook his head.  
  
“You should be protective of her,” Jeff said seriously. “That's good. But you just need to…you know, relax. I know it’s hard to act normal around her,” he laughed, “but try it. All right?”  
  
Michael groaned and smashed his head into his pillow. “Damn, why couldn’t you have just given me the simple version of this weeks ago? Then I could stop planning murders every time someone glares at her. I think that's somewhat abnormal.”  
  
“Yeah, and it’s the bad kind of abnormal. Try a conversation about three legged Howler monkeys if that's what you want.”  
  
Michael laughed again and rubbed his face with both hands.  
  
“Good advice man. No, really,” he added, “I appreciate it. And in return, I’ll stop moping around like a teenage Snape.”  
  
Silence fell and after a moment, Michael grabbed his wand from his bedside table and extinguished the self-sustaining balls floating over their heads that lit their room. One more thing remained to be discussed, however.  
  
“So…” Jeff said eventually, “the kiss was good, huh?”   
  
“Yeah, much better than your mom,” he said sleepily, turning back over. “I'm sorry about all the whining, okay? No more angsty mutterings about my girlfriend and you let me get some sleep?”  
  
“Girlfriend?” Jeff repeated.  
  
Michael gave no further answer, finally finding a comfortable spot on his bed and settling in for a long night’s rest.  


* * *

  
  
  
The  _Merlin_  made port in the city Castries the next day, and the group of teens disembarked, though reluctantly. Michael claimed he was glad to be leaving the ship and back on task, but he was fairly sure the others could tell he had actually been enjoying himself, and was not pleased to be back running dangers. After the day of fun, it was time to get back to reality.  
  
They stood on the dock, soaking up the city as the other passengers left the ship. As Sarah pointed out various points of interest, and Ron stared around wide eyed, Michael filled them in on the plan for their task: Finding the Ring of Four.   
  
“It’s not a huge island, and we have a rough idea where the Ring is,” he told them, securing a pair of sunglasses on his face. “But we could be wrong, so in case this takes long, we have reservations at a hotel.”   
  
“Which one?” Sarah asked interestedly, also donning a pair of glasses.   
  
“The Sixth Star,” Michael told her, smiling at her reaction. “Once again, on the company Galleon.”   
  
“But the Seven Stars chain are the nicest hotels in the world!” she said excitedly. “I've never stayed at one, but they’re supposed to be amazing!”   
  
“Well if everything goes according to Michael's God-given plan, we won't be here more than a night,” Jeff grumbled, though smiling at a pair of pretty girls getting off the boat. They waved at him; Luna waved eagerly back.  
  
“Are you kidding?” Michael asked incredulously, “I didn’t want to stay on that boat long because we have stuff to do, but if we get the Ring today, we’re staying for at least another week! I'm on a tropical island with my closest friends, I'm ready to have some fun.”   
  
“So let’s get to it then,” Harry said, rubbing his hands together. “Where do your people think the Ring is anyway?”   
  
“Not now,” Michael said quietly, glancing around at the multitudes of tourists. “Don’t want to be overheard…let’s head to the hotel, I’ll get a…taxi…? That's what they're called, right?” Hermione nodded at him.  
  
Within minutes two cabs pulled up to them, and after a little fighting for the ride to ride with some other tourists, they loaded their luggage into the trunks. “Let’s see,” Michael said, slamming the lid shut, “how about me, Sarah, Jeff, and Luna in this one,” he smacked the door of the one closest to him, “and Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the other?”   
  
They nodded agreement and climbed into a car. “Sixth Star Hotel,” Michael told the driver, who grunted and put the car in drive. It was an uncomfortable ride, Michael and Jeff sandwiched in between Luna and Sarah, inhaling smoke from the driver’s cigar the entire way. Michael handed the cabbie his fare in American Muggle money the second they arrived at the hotel, not bothering to wait for his change.   
  
“Ride all right?” he asked Ron as the Trio scrambled out of their car, looking thankful to be in fresh air again. Ron grimaced at him, helping Hermione pull her things out of the trunk.   
  
“Shall we go inside then?” Luna asked, gazing up at the grand hotel.   
  
“Yeah, but before we go up to our rooms, we better check them for any kind of alcohol, you know how Hermione is…” Ron trailed off, miming drinking from a bottle with the hand that wasn’t holding Hermione’s suitcase.   
  
She stomped on his foot, causing him to drop her suitcase, swear, and jump up and down on one foot, holding the other as if he had been shot there. When her luggage hit the ground it split open, spilling her clothes, including underwear, into the street.   
  
“That hurt!” Ron yelled at her. “I was only joking!”   
  
“Pick that up!” Hermione commanded him, scrambling to shove her clothes back into her bag. “Pick it up now!” She snapped her suitcase shut, but left it on the ground for Ron to pick up.   
  
“Hermione, you missed a bra,” Luna pointed out vaguely, bending down to pick it up. “This is yours, isn’t it?” She held it up for Hermione to inspect. “It’s too big for me.”  
  
“Yes, thank you Luna!” she said quickly, snatching it out of the air and hastily shoving it down her shirt, for lack of any better place.   
  
“Ron, pick up her stuff so we can go,” Harry said, annoyed. Ron started to argue, but Michael pushed past him, carrying his and Luna’s things, the rest of the group following behind him. Jeff grinned at Ron as they passed and gave him a thumbs up.   
  
The doors slid open automatically and the group stepped inside, Ron bringing up the rear and grumbling angrily. Michael walked up to the reception desk and cleared his throat. The islander looked at him expectantly, apparently not wanting to make small talk.   
  
“Err, hello. We’re the Jacobs party, we have reservations for two rooms…” he told the man, who yawned, looking bored, before turning around to find the keys.   
  
“You’re up on floor three,” he told Michael, “rooms three fifty-four and three fifty-five. Nice view. High end suites. For such a large group, at least.”   
  
“Thank you,” Michael said, taking the two card keys the receptionist held out to him. “And we’ll take our own luggage, thanks,” he added as a bellhop stepped forward to take their things.   
  
“What’s wrong?” Harry asked out of the corner of his mouth as they crowded into the elevator. “Something in your suitcase you don’t want found?”   
  
“Well if there was, it’s not likely I’d tell you about it, is it?” Michael said as the lift began to rise. He did tip a wink at Harry.  
  
“Magazines Luna wouldn’t like?” Jeff asked suggestively. Sarah laughed but Luna only raised her eyebrows.  
  
“I might like them,” she said offhandedly. “I haven't had the chance to find out.”  
  
“No, if I needed that I’d just ask your mother,” Michael spat at him. “She was only too happy to oblige last time!” Harry shook his head.  
  
"It’s always his mum. Always the same joke. You need some new material mate,” Harry said. “That joke lost its effect a while ago. You always say stuff like that about her.”   
  
“And none of its true!” Jeff snarled, looking menacingly at Michael, “He just can't think of anything intelligent to say.”   
  
“How about… _Hevite_!” Michael said, suddenly drawing his wand and pointing it at the baggage Jeff was carrying. They immediately dropped to the ground, pulling him down with them.   
  
“Hey – what the hell – damn – fix it!” Jeff spluttered, struggling to lift the enormously heavy bags. Michael did nothing but smirk down at him until the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open behind him.   
  
“Well, this is our floor,” he told Jeff, who was still attempting to pick up his own bag, abandoning Sarah’s. “Here. This will give you some time to remember the counter curse,” he said as everyone else stepped out into the hallway. He punched the button for floor ten and watched the doors slide shut with a smile. “To the rooms then?” he asked, turning to face the others. They set off down the long hallway, checking the numbers on the doors as they passed.   
  
“I wish you hadn’t done that Michael,” Sarah said ruefully as they passed room three hundred and twenty. “That was my stuff he was carrying.”   
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Michael said carelessly, “It’s a simple spell, he’ll get it soon enough.”   
  
“Or he might just leave it there, for anyone to go through” Sarah said, looking worried.   
  
“Nah that would mean leaving his own stuff” said Michael. “And he’s got our last supply of Sobering Potion, there’s no way he’d leave that behind.”   
  
“Fair point,” Sarah said, looking more relaxed. “Ah, here we are,” she added as they came to a stop in front of the room marked 354.   
  
“Guys in fifty-five, girls in fifty-four?” Michael suggested, once again receiving nods of approval. “Okay then, we’ll set up our stuff, then everyone go to our room and I’ll explain exactly what we’re planning to do.”   
  
“And what about bagboy?” Ron asked, glancing down the hallway for Jeff.   
  
“He’ll make it,” Michael said flippantly. “This weighs a ton” he added to Luna, who took it from him, stooping over slightly as she did. “What do you have in there?”   
  
“Just a few things,” she said vaguely. “A change of clothes, some of the delicious chicken we had at dinner last night, Gurdyroot – in case anyone wanted tea – and of course a Warding Block.” Michael raised his eyebrows at her questioningly. “It  _looks_ just like a regular chunk of wood,” Luna explained, “but it has runes carved in it to protect from the sun. It works especially well against sunburn.”  
  
Luna still caught him off guard with things like this occasionally; Michael wasn’t sure he would ever be totally prepared. But this time, he was. “Great,” he smiled at her. “That means you won't need to wear a shirt most of this trip, right?” Luna laughed out loud at his obvious pass and Ron cast him a look that communicated he was deeply impressed.  
  
 All three girls disappeared into their room, and Michael shrugged at Ron and Harry.   
  
“You do think Jeff’ll make it back soon, right? I mean it’s only –”   
  
“ _Liten_?” Jeff asked as he staggered down the hallway towards them, looking furious. “What the hell? Who does that?”   
  
“Me” said Michael simply. “It’s a super Anglicized spell, don't act like it was hard. Now go give Sarah her stuff, she nearly had a conniption when she thought you’d leave it.”   
  
“Always expects the worst, doesn’t she…?” Jeff muttered as he knocked on the door and was permitted to enter.   
  
Harry and Ron rounded on Michael.   
  
“How did you do that?” Ron demanded.   
  
“Do what?” Michael asked, sliding the card through the slot and turning the handle. They filed into the room, slightly thrown off by the luxury. Michael had had his doubts when he was told they would all be sleeping in a single room, but the Sixth Star had fully provided for them. Four beds sat against two walls, decked out with closeable curtains and even chocolates on the pillows.  
  
“He was about to go to work on you,” Harry pointed out.   
  
“I don’t know about that…” Michael said, frowning a little. “But what's your point?”   
  
“You turned him on Sarah instead!” Ron told him. “He completely forgot he was pissed at you! Now he’s going to get yelled at for getting mad at her, its genius!”   
  
“Oh that,” Michael said as Jeff knocked on the door. “Years of pissing people off teach you a great many things. You just have to practice, that’s the easy part,” he said with mystique, letting Jeff in.   
  
“Practice what?” he asked, throwing his suitcase onto the unoccupied bed on the far side of the room.   
  
“Sex,” Michael lied smoothly.   
  
“Oh,” a smirk crept up on his face, “So what about you and –”   
  
But he stopped talking immediately as there was another gentle knock on the door. Harry pulled open the door, letting Luna, Sarah, and Hermione in. They stumbled in, gazing around the room.   
  
“We were wondering if yours was as nice as ours is,” Luna said, shutting the door behind her. She walked over to one of the beds and sat down, looking up expectantly at Michael.   
  
“And is it?” he asked.   
  
“Oh yes, we just thought you might be trying to pass off the lesser room on us,” Sarah said, sitting down next to Luna.   
  
“Sarah, this is the Sixth Star,” Michael said crossly, “If it doesn’t meet your expectations, then you might as well just go marry Draco Malfoy, then you can live in his house.”   
  
“Eww!” Hermione and Sarah groaned at once, looking horrified by the thought. Luna shut her eyes and shook her head repeatedly, apparently trying to remove the thought from her head. “But really, what’s the plan Michael?”   
  
“All right, everybody pay attention, I'm only going over this once,” Michael said importantly, making sure everyone was sitting somewhere. He stood in the middle of the room, and stretched his hand out, towards his luggage, on the bed Harry and Ron were sitting on. The small Morgana disc zoomed into his hand. He tapped it with his wand.  
  
“I need a map of the island.”   
  
Seemingly in reaction to his words, the little disc lit up, the flat top emitting a ghostly blue light, a orange ball of light spinning around the side of the disc . After a few seconds, it quieted and a holographic aerial view of St. Lucia burst from it, spanning about five feet either way.   
  
“We’re here,” Michael said, indicating a spot on the southern tip of the island with his finger, which blinked red. “We believe the Ring to be here,” he indicated another spot on the northeastern side, which blinked blue.   
  
“Michael, I think your MD is broken,” said Sarah, sounding alarmed, “because the spot it’s showing is a volcano.”   
  
“No, it’s working fine,” Michael said calmly, “It’s in the volcano all right. Or at least we think so.”   
  
“Michael, it’s a volcano,” Hermione said, trying to sound rational.   
  
“Exactly,” Luna put in, sounding uncharacteristically indignant, “what about all the Magmen? They eat humans alive! Are you trying to get us killed?”   
  
“No Luna, you know full well we could fight off any number of Magmen,” Michael said distractedly. Luna looked contended by that. “But maybe first I should explain how we plan to survive the volcano?” She nodded seriously.  
  
“Right well, I suppose technically we’re not going in the volcano, but rather under it. See, there’s a kind of…temple under it. No one knows who made it, maybe ancient natives, maybe the Magmen, I don’t know. But there’s an underwater entrance on ocean side of the volcano, and that’s how we’ll get in.” The hologram zoomed in on the blue dot, and began blinking on a spot of water just off the beach, surrounded by large rocks. “Once inside, we’ll search through the temple, find the Ring, Ron will show it what's what and we’ll be on our way.   
  
“If anything goes wrong,” Michael threw a significant look to Jeff, who nodded somberly, “the only way out is through the passage we’re using to enter. Head for that, whether or not you have the Ring, just get out.”   
  
“Don’t you mean if  _we_  have the Ring?” Jeff asked, meeting his eyes.  
  
“That’s what I meant,” Michael corrected himself quickly, “But it’s not like it matters, what do we have to worry about?”   
  
“Nothing we know about yet,” Harry said, standing up. “When do we leave?”   
  
“Right now, as long as that’s okay with everyone” Michael said, looking around at them. “Any reason to wait?”  
  
“Any chance of lunch before we go?” Ron asked hopefully.   
  
“Ron, this is the Ring of Four we’re talking about!” Hermione began, but Michael raised a hand to silence her.   
  
“You’re right Hermione, this is important. But if we go unprepared, things are much more likely to go wrong. We need to be completely ready to do this, and that means full stomachs too. So let’s find a place to eat, but quick. We need to do this today. It’s our best chance of avoiding a fight with the assassin.”   
  
“I saw a nice looking place when we drove in,” said Hermione. “It would only be a couple minutes walk from here.”   
  
“We’ll do that, then grab a taxi to the beach at the volcano. Everybody make sure you’ve got your wands, and anything else you want to bring. We won't be back until we’re done.”   
  
Michael flipped a switch on his MD and returned it to his bag. He began rummaging through it, deciding what and what not to bring. Jeff copied them, which seemed to make Harry and Ron feel rather insignificant: Neither had brought more than clothes and their wands, except for Harry’s Invisibility Cloak, which he quickly extracted from his bag.   
  
The girls left and returned to their room to gather anything they had brought that might be necessary.   
  
They ate in the restaurant Hermione had mentioned, dining on the local delicacy, which was, at least according to Michael, Jeff, Harry, and Ron, pizza. They talked and joked casually, trying to relax, to take their minds off the daunting mission that lay waiting for them. All were quite unsuccessful. Only Luna and Ron ate a full meal in that diner.  
  
“So, everyone ready to go for a swim?” Michael asked as Jeff belched, causing Hermione and Sarah to shoot looks of disgust at him. Luna however, simply looked interested.   
  
“I thought we had to go get the Ring?” she asked. “Or are we going to the beach first? That would be fun and a good way to relax first –”   
  
“No, I mean we have to swim through an underwater passage to get in,” Michael cut across her. “But I suppose that yes, we are going to the beach, but not for long.”   
  
Harry hailed them another cab after they left the restaurant and they got in, in the same groups as before. But this time their destination was a small shop on the eastern beach of the island. They hopped out and stretched and the cabs drove away, hunting for other customers. The massive volcano loomed in the distance, overlooking the beach and the shop they were now approaching.   
  
“What are we doing here?” Sarah asked Michael as he held the door open for them to enter. It was a small, unimpressive store, with lines of shelves filled with snacks and a couple fridges containing drinks squashed into a corner. Various beach toys and equipment filled out the rest of the store.  
  
“Wetsuits,” Michael explained, heading for the counter, behind which stood an old man who was obviously the shopkeeper. He looked foreign to the island and confirmed it when he spoke.   
  
“Hey there kids,” he said, smiling at them, revealing missing teeth. “What do ya need? I bet I got it in here some’re” he said, gesturing around at the store.   
  
“We’re here for something special,” Michael said, leaning forward on the counter. “A special order for the Jacobs party.”   
  
“Oh,” the old man said with a look of comprehension.“You’re Michael Jacobs!” Michael flinched at the loud announcement. “And is that Harry Potter with you? Not every day celebrities walk into my little ole store…but I have what they asked for, let me go get em.”   
  
He vanished into a door behind the counter and did not return for around a minute.   
  
“Another STRIKE contact?” Hermione asked him.   
  
“Sort of. He used to be an agent himself, when he was younger. A lot of people…don't stay in STRIKE too long. With a few notable exceptions in leadership, most get out fairly quickly. But he retired and moved here, to start this little place. He stayed in contact, so we asked for this favor.”   
  
“He was in STRIKE,” Ron repeated. He looked around the store again, as if expecting to see something top secret hidden away in a corner.   
  
“This what you're going to do after we off Voldemort?” Jeff smirked at Michael. “Settle down and start a little shop?”  
  
“Maybe,” Michael shrugged. Would that be so bad?  
  
“Here ya go, seven suits” the man said, emerging from the door, holding out seven rubbery suits. “Any chance you could give me a hint what you’re doin?” he added in a low voice as Michael took the gear from him.   
  
“Sorry, top secret. You know how it is.”   
  
“Just what I expected!” the man cried, grinning, “No less than what I’d ‘ev expected from Michael Jacobs.”  
  
“Um, yeah, thanks,” Michael said uncomfortably, passing a suit to everyone. Why the hell was this old man expecting anything from him? “Well, goodbye and thank you again for the favor.”   
  
“Good luck to all of you!” he called after them, “Hope you kick their arses!” Michael nodded and gestured for the others to follow him out of the store.  
  
“So that’s STRIKE?” Ron inquired, speaking over the sharp bell that ding-donged as they pushed out the door. “That's who’s going to come after you for helping out Luna?”  
  
“No,” Michael said indifferently. “They’ll send some combination of Spellmasters and my own Special Forces to take me down. Or maybe Staffon will just come flay me himself?”  
  
“That…is something to consider,” Sarah said seriously, while Jeff, Ron, and Harry laughed. “What if Staffon does come after us? We can handle a few agents, even a Captain or two, but if  _he_ sets out to take us down….”  
  
“I’ll help you stop him,” Luna answered, looking with interest out at the beach. She had small sand dollars hanging from her ears today.   
  
“I’ll just use Harry as a human shield,” Michael grinned, throwing a heavy arm around Harry’s shoulders. “He won't blow the ‘Chosen One’ away to get me. Well…maybe a limb or two,” he added, giving Harry an apologetic look. Harry shook his head and ducked out from under Michael's arm.  
  
“So, why do we need these?” Hermione asked, examining her suit as they reached the boundary between concrete parking lot and sandy beach. “It’s not a long swim, is it?”   
  
“Well, no,” he said, guiding them onto the beach. It took approximately three seconds for sand to find its way into his sneakers. “But if you don’t mind exploring an undergrounds temple in a bikini, far be it for me to tell you no.”   
  
That shut Hermione up, and they stepped nearer the mushy, wet sand at the shoreline of the beach, which was fairly quiet, considering the time of day. Michael supposed this was due to that most people their age that would be patronizing the beach were off doing pointless things like school and work. Well, technically, this was work.  
  
“See those rocks?” Michael said, pointing to a collection of jagged rocks at the edge of the beach, close to the volcano. “The passageway is through them, but it’s about twenty feet under. Everyone knows the Bubble Head Charm?”   
  
“Of course we do,” Ron said defensively. “We’re only a year younger than you, you know?”   
  
Michael was embarrassed. “Right, my mistake. But actually almost two years, really. My birthday’s next week, so everybody start thinking of something nice to get me.” He looked purposely at Luna. “Think hard.”   
  
She smiled pleasantly, while the other girls rolled their eyes and the boys smirked at each other. “Everybody get their suits on, let’s get going,” Michael said, feigning obliviousness to what he had just said, or at least implied.   
  
“You can't expect us to just strip down right here,” Sarah said indignantly. Luna looked over at her in surprise; she slowly slid the strap of her tank top back onto her shoulder and turned to Michael expectantly.  
  
“Hope, not expect,” Michael corrected her under his breath. He coughed. “Anyway, no. These suits are enchanted. Very minor Extension Charm on all of them, so with a little wiggling and shaking, we should be able to squeeze into them fully dressed. That way we can drop them when we get in and explore in street clothes.”  
  
They pulled on their tight suits with some difficulty, feeling slightly stupid as the few people on the beach started at them as they stuffed their somewhat baggy clothes into the too-small suits. They waded out into the water, waist deep, near the boulders. Small waves beat them around their hips; Michael smiled genuinely as Jeff caught hold of Sarah to stop her from losing her balance and falling under.  
  
“Let’s go behind the rocks,” Michael muttered. “We’ve got enough problems to deal with – Voldemort, underage magic, the wrath of Dumbledore, Magmen – to worry about without adding a serious breach of the Statute of Secrecy.”   
  
They took refuge behind the pile, and Michael addressed them one last time.   
  
“Okay, we’ll all put on the charm, then I’ll go in first and find the path. You all keep your wands lit, it’ll get dark once we get underground, and we can't afford to be blind. I don’t know how long the passage is, but judging by the volcano’s location, relative to us, it could easily be half a mile. So, stay on alert. You see anything; make sure everybody knows. I don’t care if you have to shoot the person ahead of you in the ass, just do it. Ready?”   
  
They all murmured yes and Michael nodded, tapping his wand to his skull, causing a clear bubble to form around his head. The others copied him and after a last, tiny moment of hesitation, then plunged into the water.   
  
It was pleasantly warm at first, but as they swam deeper, it cooled rapidly. They stayed close to the rocks, searching for the entrance to the cavern. Heads turned constantly, beams of light from wands sweeping the area around them. Schools of small, bright fish cut them off every once in a while, only to be dispersed by a jet of hot water from one or two wands.  
  
At last, Michael turned around as a dull spell hit him in the rear. Luna, who was behind him, was pointing excitedly at an opening in the rock formation. Michael gave her a quick thumbs up and swam inside.   
  
It was tight, and because of this they had to go through single file. They scrapped up against the sharp rock wall numerous times, grazing their skin and tearing their wetsuits. It seemed to go on forever, and after a few hundred feet, the passage sloped downward.   
  
After nearly five minutes of nonstop swimming, Michael finally saw an opening ahead. He kicked hard, tired of the unchanging scenery. His head broke the stillness of the water as it popped out, and he looked around the cavern. He waded into shallower waters, then stepped out onto the pebbly ground inside. Luna and the others soon joined him.   
  
“So, what now?” she asked, removing the bubble enclosing her head and shaking her head, her long hair falling into its usual unkempt state. They looked around; they were in the mouth of what could be a cave, or an artificially created passageway. Only their wands provided any light, but even this small glow was enough to show them they had entered an area far larger than any of them had expected.  
  
“We go down that dark, scary path, into a temple built by God knows who, in search of a deadly magical object,” Michael drawled, pulling off his wetsuit and laying it away from the water, near the passage of which he spoke. He frowned down at himself. His clothes were damp from the water that had slipped in through the holes in his suit. He dried himself with a quick spell, casting light in all directions as he moved his wand up and down his clothes.  
  
“And after that?” Harry asked, leaving his suit by Michael’s.   
  
“Relax, time off, fun, parties?” suggested Michael, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“Perfect,” said Jeff, striding down the beginning of the dim trail, not bothering to wait for the others.   
  
“Jeff, get back here!” Sarah called to him, tossing her suit into a pile with the others and hurrying after Jeff, who did not respond. A track of dripping water made it simple for Michael and the others to follow them.  
  
“Well, shall we?” Michael asked the remaining four, who nodded, readying their wands. He offered his free hand to Luna.  
  
“Let’s,” Luna replied, taking his free hand in hers and leading the Trio down the pathway, on the lookout for traps, and any sign of Jeff and Sarah, who had made significant progress. It was darker than even the passage underwater had been, they couldn’t see more than a few feet, even aided by their wands, though it was much bigger, and they were able to walk in a tight group.   
  
“Jeff! Sarah! Where the hell did you guys go?” Michael yelled into the darkness, slowly growing worried at his friends’ lack of reappearance.   
  
To his relief, Jeff soon shouted back, “We’re up ahead! You’ve got to see this!” Then came Sarah’s voice, “Hurry up, I think this is it!”   
  
They did indeed hurry up, and they soon found Jeff and Sarah standing still, staring with awe at what was in front of them.   
  
“What – what the hell is this?” Harry panted.   
  
There was a huge archway in front of them, carved out of stone. It was strangely not the same stone that made up the cavern, but a smooth, greenish color. It seemed like a gateway, though instead of any kind of door, there was nothing but a separate slab of the same strange stone. The entire archway was covered in writing carved into the rock.   
  
“What is it?” Luna echoed Harry in a hushed voice. She reached out to touch it, but Michael grabbed her hand and pulled it away.   
  
“Don’t,” he told her harshly. He was staring at the arch, trying to understand the mysterious markings all over it.   
  
“It’s not runes,” Hermione said slowly. Luna nodded agreement.   
  
“Not the language of the sun either,” Luna added pensively, crossing her arms and staring thoughtfully at the stone.  
  
“Guys,” Ron whispered from behind them, he sounded terrified. “Guys, I can read this.”   
  
“You can read it?” Hermione repeated loudly, her voice echoing down the passage. “But how can you possibly–?”   
  
“What does it say?” Michael asked sharply, ignoring Hermione’s question. “Is it a warning? Instructions? What?”   
  
“It says –” Ron swallowed. “It says that ‘only one of true blood may enter this place, so say the Lacerte, eternal servants of Lord Darothril.’ That’s repeated about a hundred times.” He looked at them all in horror. “Darothril? Isn't that the guy I'm descended from?”   
  
“That’s him,” Michael said, sparking an internal debate. “Does it say anything else? Like what are the Lacerte?”   
  
“No idea,” Ron said, taking a step closer to the arch. “Like I say, it’s just that same warning…over and over again.”   
  
“And what about ‘one of true blood’?” Sarah asked. “Does that mean that only a Pureblood can enter?”   
  
“I don't think so,” Michael said, continuing to study the markings, though they remained unintelligible. “I think it more likely that it means that only a descendent of Darothril, not necessarily any bloodline.”   
  
“So only Ron can go in?” Harry asked. Michael could feel the nervousness beginning to boil over their entire group.   
  
“It’s possible” Michael said slowly. “But rules  _are_  made to be broken….”   
  
“Some rules can't be broken,” Hermione pointed out.    
  
“True,” Harry responded. “But all rules can be bent. Ron, try putting your hand on the space in the middle of that arch.”   
  
He gulped, then stepped forward and placed his palm flat against the stone, while everyone watched nervously. As soon as Ron’s flesh made contact with the rock, it melted away, leaving only the outline of the archway behind.   
  
“I think it means that Ron had to let us in,” Michael said, looking relieved. “I believe any of us can go in, but Ron had to allow it first.”   
  
“So, can I move?” Ron asked, his palm still suspended in midair.   
  
“I don’t know, give it a try.”   
  
Ron tenderly retracted his hand, waiting to see if the doorway would remain open. It did, and Harry slapped Ron on the back.   
  
“Good job mate!” he told him.  
  
“Yeah… thanks,” Ron said distractedly, staring down at the hand that he had used to open the door, as if he couldn’t believe that something attached to him had done it.   
  
“So, do we draw straws or…?” Jeff asked, looking at the archway apprehensively.   
  
“Let me see,” Luna said, striding forward and, without hesitation, stepping through the archway. She glanced around, then with a deep breath, transformed into a slender white wolf.   
  
“Luna?” Harry began blankly, but Michael understood.   
  
She turned her head in all directions, sniffing with her sensitive nostrils, on alert for any danger she might pick up on. She returned to human form, and beckoned them to her. They followed her through the arch, into what Michael had accurately described as a temple. High pillars flanked them on all sides, and there were a number of doors leading off from the room they were standing in.   
  
“Smell anything?” Michael asked as they came up beside her. She considered the question for a moment, deciding how best to answer.   
  
“Well, yes and no…I’m not really sure what I smelled,” she said, shaking her head. “Why don’t you take a sniff, you’ll see what I mean.” Michael shrugged and became his usual snowy wolf, inhaling deeply, following the same movements Luna had just made. When he had regained his human face, it was troubled and nervous.   
  
“Yeah, I understand,” he said, peering into the darkness around them. “It’s…not human, and it’s not here right now but…”   
  
“Whatever it was, it left a strong enough impression for us to scent,” Luna surmised, nodding. “I think we should hurry. It reminded me of Dad’s cooking.”   
  
Michael didn’t answer, he simply walked ahead into the poorly lit room, and keeping his wand aimed at chest level, pulled open one of the doors. Nothing jumped out at him, and he sighed and motioned for the others to follow.   
  
The room they entered was much larger than the last, and was filled with pews, two rows down each side of the room. There seemed to be a statue or monument of some sort at the far side of the room, raised up on a set of steps. Whatever it was, it seemed to Michael to be the object of worship to whoever built this temple. What the hell had they gotten into?  
  
“Michael,” Sarah whispered, something in her voice making him tense up, “I – I think that’s it.”   
  
“What? Where?”   
  
“See the statue at the end of the pews? Look there, something’s shining!”   
  
Michael rushed forward, closer, closer and then he was there. He looked up at the statue he was now less than a foot from. It was of a powerful, clever looking man. He had a pointed beard, and was wearing an imposing scowl. Even in stone, his eyes seemed to pierce Michael’s soul. Shaking this uncomfortable notion, Michael looked down at Darothril’s outstretched hands.   
  
He couldn’t help but gasp as he saw, lying in the cup formed by the two stone palms, the Ring of Four, the legendary item once belonging to the Dark Wizard this sanctuary was devoted to. Had Darothril built this place himself, during his life, or had it been constructed after his death? Michael doubted seriously he would have parted with the Ring while still living – this place was not a base of Darothril’s, it was a memorial for him.  
  
 He reached his hand out to take the Ring, but stopped, his fingers centimeters from the glinting ring. Caution had finally caught up with his excitement.   
  
“Ron,” he said, loudly and clearly. “Ron, come and get it.”   
  
“What? Me?” Ron choked, the others having approached silently behind Michael. “I thought I just had to destroy it.”   
  
“Something doesn’t seem right,” Michael said, his back still to them. “I think something will happen if anyone but a Darothril tires to take it.”   
  
“But you touched the other two,” Ron argued, more than a touch of hostility in his tone. “And it’s been about eight hundred years since this thing was put here – what makes you think I need to do it? Why wouldn’t you be able to take this one?”   
  
“I don’t know!” Michael shouted at him, spinning around to face them. “I don’t think anyone but you should touch it. Someone tell me they don't feel it too?” he demanded, looking fiercely around at his friends as a whole.   
  
“I do,” Luna said softly. “This Ring is protected. They don't want anyone but Ronald to take it.”  
  
“Who is  _they_?” Hermione asked sharply, fearfully.  
  
“Whoever admired that Dark Wizard,” she gestured up at the statue, “enough to build a temple to worship him after he died. We shouldn’t be here,” she concluded. “We have to be, but we shouldn’t be. I think we should hurry.”  
  
“Ron, please,” Michael said, pulling out all his patience, “just take the Ring. Why is that such a problem?”  
  
“Because I won't be able to let go!” Ron yelled suddenly, startling Michael. His voice was strained and cracked. The others watched, stunned; it was the first time Michael had had any major disagreement with Ron. Ron had snapped at him on the train ride and Michael had nearly had it out with Harry in the Room of Requirement not long ago, but generally got along very well with the Hogwarts Trio. He liked them very much. “If I get a hold of that thing, I won't be able to just throw it away! You know that. You know I can't just give up the chance to give my family what they deserve,” he said, backing away quickly, looking frightened and haunted. “Just get it so we can go!”   
  
Harry moved to put a hand on Ron’s shoulder, as he surely understood what Ron meant, why the Ring would be so desirable. Michael, meanwhile, wanted to continue to yell at Ron, but thought better of it. Irritated and troubled as he was, he didn’t want to drag his friend down further. Ron wasn’t going to touch the Ring, no matter what he said or did. It was time to go. He slowly turned around to face the statue again, looking into the clever, stone eyes of Erer Darothril. He made his decision.   
  
“Wands ready, everyone.”  
  
He shut his eyes and reached into the hands of the idol, and scooped out the Ring with one hand. He took it in his left hand, and faced the group again, holding the Ring up to eye level, looking at it, entranced by it. Luna came up to join him by the statue, and for a moment they looked almost like a comical wedding; the two standing on the stone alter, Michael holding out a ring to Luna, presided over by the stone priest. Jeff would have made a smart joke, but he too was captivated by the object.   
  
Michael was shaken from his awe almost immediately however, as an ear piercing scream rent the air, reverberating all around them. Michael shoved the Ring into his pocket and trained his wand on the door through which they had entered, which seemed to be the source of the noise. For a split second, the seven teens stood frozen in place, their wands aimed at the same spot on the door, no one sure what to do, no one willing to be the first to act.  
  
Then, with another terrible scream, the door burst open and a horde of creatures poured in, screaming and hissing. They wore dark cloaks, and their scabbed hands might have caused them to be mistaken for Dementors, were it not for their obviously running feet, and that they were not wearing hoods.   
  
Their faces were reptilian, lizard like, with yellow eyes and razor sharp teeth which were displayed every time they unleashed one of their screams. Hovered, the feature that stuck out most obviously was that some of them, towards the back of the advancing crowd, were carrying wands.   
  
One of the girls screamed, and Michael, Harry, and Luna all yelled various spells.   
  
“ _Stupefy_!”   
  
“ _Reducto_!”   
  
“ _Descarde_!”   
  
The first spell, Harry’s, knocked a few to the ground, unconscious, Luna's Reductor curse hit the direct middle of the group, causing massive damage to those nearest. But it was Michael’s spell that saved them. The monsters slowed down, very nearly froze, and Michael grabbed Luna by the hand and pulled her off the altar, away from the statue, and down the right side of the room, the others following, shooting spells at the arrested Lacerte. Michael's head hurt. They ran through the door, Ron kicking it shut and Hermione yelling, “ _Colloportus_!” as they ran, sealing the door against the monsters inside.   
  
As soon as that threat was contained, two more popped up. Not only were huge numbers of what must be the Lacerte flooding through the other two doors, but at the head of the group was a much larger creature. This one wore shining plate armor, and was obviously the leader. He held a broadsword in one hand and Michael noticed the three wands attached to his belt.   
  
“Kill the thieves!” he hissed, the "S" at the end elongated and drawn out. They had come from the middle doorway, and the Lacerte were surrounding them on all sides, appearing from either the door on either side of them. To complicate things, the Lacerte trapped behind the door Hermione had just sealed were banging and clawing at the wood, inches from them.   
  
“Run!” Jeff yelled, though no one needed his advice. They tore down the middle of the room, the Lacerte closing in on either side; they would soon have no way of escape. Michael and Luna skidded to a stop, directly in the middle of the screaming Lacerte.   
  
“Go on, we’ll be a second! Just go, don’t worry, we have to do this!” Luna cried to the rest of the teens, who had stopped as well, after seeing their friends halt. Michael nodded, too tired to speak, but staring with determination into the crowd of lizards, now feet from them.   
  
With a last horrified look, Jeff, Sarah, Harry, Ron, and Hermione took off down the room, heading for the archway, while Michael drew in close to Luna, their back pressed up against each other.   
  
“Luna, are your prepared to do this?” Michael whispered hoarsely to her.  
  
“I'm ready,” she said quickly.  
  
“Now!”   
  
Two wands flew back to their owner’s pockets, and from nowhere, their empty hands were filled by the Sword of Ravenclaw in Luna’s pale hand, and the Sword of Gryffindor in Michael’s clenched fist. They swung in all directions, neatly cutting down the horde of advancing Lacerte.  
  
Luna weaved in and out of the group gracefully, her blade carving a quick path through the mass of lizard-men. Michael copied her, but soon became locked in combat with the leader, his arms shaking under the weight of the being’s heavy blade as he pressed down with it, trying to cut Michael down the middle.   
  
Michael broke the lock between them and called out to Luna, who was suddenly by his side, running with him out of the room, through the archway, after their other friends. The Swords flickered as if they were holograms running low on batteries, and then vanished from their hands, immediately replaced by a Redwood wand and a wand made from the wood of a peach tree.   
  
They sprinted through the next room, meeting more Lacerte at the archway, these also holding swords, which Michael blasted out of the way. When he yelled the curse, Michael scared himself, hearing how faint and weak his own voice was. “Luna, now!” Michael bellowed as they cleared the arch, and Luna pointed her wand up at the middle of the stone entrance and yelled again, “ _Bombardo_!”   
  
The curse blasted away at the rock, causing the ceiling above them to collapse, spilling chunks of stone down on them. Michael shoved Luna out of the way of the falling debris, just in time to see the Lacerte scrambling after them, only to have their way blocked by freshly fallen boulders. Michael took a last look at the hissing, clawing creatures, before they were completely hidden behind the rock barrier.   
  
They hurried back down the dark cave passage, not stopping for anything. Michael and Luna found the other five waiting for them anxiously, but said nothing as they ran to them, not breaking pace. They didn’t have time to grab their wetsuits, so they simply dove back into the water, screaming the Bubble-Head Charm as they did.   
  
They swam faster than should have been possible, given their exhaustion, looking back constantly, searching for signs that they were being followed. They clawed their way through the tiny stone passage, back to the sea, back to safety.  
  
They crashed out of the water, scrambling onto the strangely deserted beach. Six of them were immediately back on their feet, wands pointed in all directions, but Michael remained on his knees, eyes closed, breathing shallowly.   
  
“Michael!” Luna said, kneeling down beside him. “Are you okay? What happened? Why are you – oh no!” she cried as he collapsed, face down into the sand.   
  
“He’ll be okay,” Sarah said, bending down to check him. “That spell he used, the one to slow all those creatures, is a special one. Only someone with incredibly deep magical reserves like Michael could pull it off. It’s useful, but it drains even powerful Wizards quickly. He’ll be all right; he just needs time to recover.”   
  
“This is all my fault,” Ron said, shaking his head. “If I had just –”   
  
“Ron, shut up,” Jeff said sharply, staring at something behind Harry.   
  
Sarah gasped and tried to draw her wand, having sheathed it while inspecting Michael, but was knocked unconscious by a Stunning Spell from where Jeff had been gazing, horrified. Walking calmly towards them was a man in black robes – highly inappropriate for the weather, yet darkly fitting for his purpose – his wand pointed into the group, his face hidden by a hood. Harry knew exactly who this was - the assassin who had killed the STRIKE agents.   
  
Jeff tired to curse him too, but his green jet was carelessly deflected. Snarling, Jeff fired another spell, this time at the man’s feet. He jumped straight up, parting his legs, rolling on his side as he landed back on the ground, and shooting a retaliatory spell that hit Jeff directly in the face, knocking him unconscious as well. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Luna kept their wands pointed at the assassin, who seemed to be greatly enjoying himself, but none moved to attack. The Trio stared at the man, but Luna’s eyes were on Michael.  
  
So far he had only attacked in defense, and Harry remembered hearing Jeff’s promise to Michael, to get away alive, if anything happened to him. Fighting this man seemed detrimental to their survival.  
  
But he was not going to leave his friend, and in any case, Michael still had the Ring. He glanced at the others, silently begging for advice.   
  
“You’re Harry Potter,” the man stated easily, standing no more than ten yards from them. “By the way, you won't need those,” he added, and with a careless flick of his wand, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Luna’s wands soared away from them, landing neatly in his left hand.   
  
“What of it?” Harry shot at him, trying to sound brave.   
  
“Oh, nothing,” he chuckled, “Voldemort doesn’t want me to kill you, he wants to do it himself, so you don’t have to worry…yet. What I'm after is the Ring of Four, which you have so graciously retrieved for me. So please, if you would just give it to me, I’ll be on my way.”   
  
“Just like that?” Harry asked, very suspicious it was a trick. “You’ll take the Ring and leave us alone?”   
  
“Well that and,” he laughed darkly, “of course I have to kill Michael Jacobs. Personal matter, you know?” Luna’s eyes snapped from Michael to his assailant.  
  
“Why would you try to kill Michael?” Luna asked him loudly, her voice shaking, though her gaze remained steady.   
  
“Because Michael tried to kill  _me_ ,” he replied, his playful tone falling away. He now sounded extremely angry, and his wand hand twitched.  
  
“If you killed all those good people, you probably deserved it,” Luna said.  
  
The man laughed loudly, slightly hysterically. “Good people?  _Good people_? Well yes, I have killed – and do enjoy killing – good people. Most of them are weak. But Michael's not one of them. You think he’s a saint? Wait till he turns on you. Wait till he sacrifices you to Voldemort. Wait till he makes fun of your new, expensive shoes…but especially wait till he sacrifices you to Voldemort. That's the worst part.”  
  
“You're mad!” Hermione said disdainfully.  
  
“Michael would never do that!” Luna said, and Harry heard more anger in her voice than he had any other time. In fact, he had almost never seen Luna nearly this angry at all. The hooded man shook his head.  
  
“That's what I thought.  _She_  said he was right to do it. Stupid bitch. I should really get around to killing her some time…ooh maybe I can get Bellatrix to help me! Big family and friends reunion. So much fun and violence! Which I use interchangeably, really. But anyway, yes, back on point, I'm going to kill your boyfriend in the most entertaining way I can. Is that okay – oh fuck you!”  
  
He yelled with anger and fear as Luna, the beautiful, fierce, white wolf lunged at him, taking him to the ground. She snarled and snapped her teeth at him, her mouth inches from his face, barely held back by his shaking hands. He finally succeeded in kicking her off him, and they both rolled over in the sand, the wands he had stolen falling from his hands, and Luna back to human form, clutching her chest and coughing up blood.   
  
He stood up, slashing his own wand at the Trio, growling “ _Pertifucus Totalus_!” They all fell to the ground, rigid as a board, but still dreadfully aware of what was happening. “So,” he said striding over to Luna, rolling her over with his foot, “so, Michael’s been teaching you something then? Didn’t teach you how to keep the form for long in a fight though, did he?”   
  
When she didn’t respond, he stomped his foot on her chest, causing her to cry out in pain. “I asked you a question, bitch!” he spat at her. Harry struggled pointlessly against the spell freezing him, screaming counter curses in his head, but to no avail.   
  
“Who are you anyway?” he asked her, in a low, dangerous voice, “Michael’s latest little girl? Is that it, huh?” he asked in a mocking tone, rolling his boot over her repeatedly.  
  
“No, actually," replied a voice shaking with cold fury. "She’s my girlfriend, and I'm going to  _kill_  you.”   
  
He removed his foot and spun around, but was far too late. Michael was on his feet again, looking weaker and yet at the same time more powerful than Harry had ever seen. Michael’s slashing curse caught him across the chest, and he stumbled backwards, blood spilling from his chest, just as it had done to the person now casting it, weeks ago.  
  
He was panting, breathing heavily, every intake of air costing him, however, he still exuded, now more than ever, that air of unshakable confidence an power.   
  
The man pressed a hand to the wound on his chest, yet remained standing, clutching his wand with his right hand. “So that’s how it is, Michael?” he screamed at Michael, who sent another curse at him, though he parried this one. “See if you can beat me when I have a chance to fight back!”   
  
They began firing off spells at each other, with a speed Harry could hardly believe possible for anyone, let alone two injured men. At first, Harry had difficulty following the ferocious action, but soon the only color light coming from either man was green. Both were shooting to kill now. He shot another curse at Michael who ran straight at him, ducking the curse, and dropping his wand to the sand.   
  
For a moment, Harry thought it was an accident, and was alarmed, but then a second later, the shining blade of the Sword of Gryffindor had materialized into Michael’s hand and he jumped through the air at the assassin, who screamed another curse, which glanced off the blade, and threw up his arms to defend himself.   
  
There was another horrible scream, like the noises made by the Lacerte below, as the Sword swung down, severing the man’s left hand. He gabbed at his wrist with his remaining hand, and Michael drew back the sword to strike again. The assassin thrust out is good arm, open palm, at Michael, who was blasted backwards by a shock of magical energy.  
  
He fell to the ground, the Sword sticking into the sand beside him. With a last yell of pain and fury, the assassin waved his wand, broke the Anti-Apparition Wards around them, and disappeared with a loud crack.   
  
“Luna...” Michael muttered, using the handle of the Sword to pull himself up. He staggered over to her and fell to his knees, and at the same moment, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, realized they were freed from the Body Bind Curse.  
  
Ron and Hermione stumbled over to Jeff and Sarah, while Harry walked slowly towards where Michel and Luna now lay, side by side, eyes closed, oblivious to the eerie silence that covered the sand, which slowly turned a deep shade of scarlet.  



	16. Chapter 16: Cold (But I'm Still Here)

  
_You can't catch me, your legs just aren’t long enough!”_  
  
 _“I'm taller than you!”_  
  
 _“But I'm faster.”_  
  
 _“Come here and say that!”_  
  
 _The two children ran through the park, the dark haired boy close behind the nearly flying blonde girl, almost managing to catch her, but missing by inches when he tried to grab her._  
  
 _He stumbled forward and fell flat on his face, into the fresh mud from the last night’s rain._  
  
 _“You fell!” the girl laughed as the boy picked himself up out of the mud, trying to clean it off his face._  
  
 _“You shouldn’t laugh,” he told her, scowling. Luna looked at him seriously._  
  
 _“Why, is it hurting your feelings?”_  
  
 _“No, because now you’re going to get dirty too once I catch you!”_  
  
 _The chase began again, Michael leaving muddy footprints behind as he pursued Luna, slipping and sliding in the slippery grass. Realizing she was indeed too fast, he stopped and closed his eyes tight, as if he was thinking hard._  
  
 _Seconds later, Luna, who had turned around once she realized he was no longer after her, fell to the ground as the grass beneath her rose up and grabbed her ankles._  
  
 _“That’s no fair!” she pouted, trying to disentangle the grass roots from her legs. ”Its amazing…” she added under her breath._  
  
 _“So what?” Michael said stubbornly, “We never said that was against the rules! I can do any magic I want, and so can you!”_  
  
 _“But I don’t need to!” Luna replied, jumping back to her feet and taking off, yelling back over her shoulder, “Slowpoke, slowpoke!”_  
  
 _“They really are something, aren’t they?” said a tall blonde woman watching them play._  
  
 _“Yes, I know, they get along so well. And their magic is already so developed!” said another woman affectionately. She was short, barely up to Elysina’s shoulder, but wore a kind smile and had an innate motherly quality._  
  
 _“Yes, I'm sure they will be the star students at Salem next year,” Xenophillius said confidently to the other man, Michael’s father, or foster father._  
  
 _“Such bright futures…” he said thoughtfully, wiping his glasses on his shirt. “I wonder what they’ll grow up to do?”_  
  
 _“Secretary of Secrecy?” suggested Elysina._  
  
 _“Oh no, not Michael,” said his mother, Nancy, with a smile, “Luna maybe, but Michael would never be able to sit still that long. No, he says he wants to join the AMC, or go to England and be an Auror. Seems they get a lot more Dark Wizards than we do. That's where the action is.”_  
  
 _“The AMC would be a good choice,” Xenophillius said seriously. “But never the Aurors. Haven't you heard of the Rotfang Conspiracy?”_  
  
 _Michael's parents shook their heads, and he launched into a long explanation of the Vampires’ and Aurors’ joint plan to seize worldwide magical power. Elysina, meanwhile, was no longer smiling. Her hand dropped along with her face, coming to rest against her thigh. Her wand was invisible under her bright dress, secured safely against her leg._  
  
 _Her attention had never left the children, even while she socialized with the other adults. For a moment, she allowed her eyes to close, blocking out everything else in the world. Of course he would want to go to England, face the most dangerous fights and enemies. The little boy was like her. That was why Luna liked him so much. It surprised her slightly no one else saw it._  
  
 _It brought her so much joy to watch her daughter become so close to that boy, but it also frightened her a little. There was so much evil in the world…those two little ones would one day become prime targets. In a way, they already were. It was the dual blessing and curse of her work. Her chosen path meant she must always be on alert for any approaching danger to Luna…yet it also ensured she had the skill, power, and tenacity to protect her._  
  
 _“Gotcha!” Michael shouted, finally having gotten a hold of Luna. “You lose!”_  
  
 _“That was fun, but now let me go!” she said, sticking her tongue out at him._  
  
 _“Not yet,” he told her, an evil smile on his deceivingly innocent face. “First you’re going for a swim!” They struggled over to the pond by the park, Luna trying desperately to free herself from Michael’s grip._  
  
 _“Not fair – let me – go!” she cried, now fighting him on the bank of the pond, their feet skidding on the muddy surface. “You're coming with me!”_  
  
 _She suddenly stopped pulling away from the pond, and fell back towards it, conceding defeat in a no win situation. Both children were pulled into the water, both yelling, Luna with triumph, Michael with fury._  
  
 _They played in that tiny pool nearly an hour, splashing and fighting and laughing. Their parents eventually joined them, nearly filling the entire pond. After a long day, the sun began to go down, and Michael and Luna climbed out of the pool, still soaking wet. Elysina chuckled and shook her head at the slightly shivering children. A flick of her wrist and her wand was in her hand, too fast for anyone to discern exactly how it had gotten there. A quick glance around to check for Muggles, and Elysina took turns aiming her wand at Michael and Luna, blasting them with a gale of warm air, drying their clothes and hair. Grinning, Michael took a step closer, trying to get his face bombarded as much as possible._  
  
 _“Mum, can we go have dinner?” Luna asked abruptly. “I'm hungry. Can we have salad?” Michael looked angry._  
  
 _“Your loss, Luna!” Michael said, pointing at her. “I'm staying here all night, having fun! But you go home, if you don't want to stay; you’ll just get in the way!”_  
  
 _Luna opened her mouth to reply, looking legitimately hurt, but Michael’s father, John, placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Luna’s the only reason you have fun,” he told him sternly. “She’s the best friend you have, so you better change your attitude.”_  
  
 _“Sorry, Dad,” Michael muttered, looking down at his feet._  
  
 _“Now get your stuff, we’re going home,” John said, gesturing for his wife to come out of the water, where she was still relaxing._  
  
 _“Okay,” he said, still looking slightly upset and walking back towards the main park area to pick up the toys he had brought. “Bye, Luna”_  
  
 _“Goodbye! Do you want to come over tomorrow?”_  
  
 _Michael froze for a second, grinning away from her. “Yeah, okay, I can do that,” he finally said over his shoulder. Luna beamed at him and picked up a hand from each of her parents._  
  
 “Michael’s still out?”   
  
 _What, was that his father’s voice?_    
  
“Yeah he is, and Harry’s still stuck too.”  
  
 _His mother? No, these were not his parents, these were…his friends._    
  
“Stuck?”   
  
“In Voldemort’s mind.”   
  
“Oh. Does…it usually last this long?”   
  
“No, but with Harry you never know what's going on.”   
  
Michael opened his eyes suddenly. He looked around him, searching for the voices. He turned his head left, then right. He was back at the hotel, in his bed, Jeff, Sarah, Ron, and Hermione the other occupants of the room.   
  
He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his head. They had been underwater…then had been attacked…then he had fought the assassin, then nothing….He thought on the dream he had just awoken from. It wasn’t a dream…it was a memory, a memory almost a decade old, the memory of the last time he saw Luna Lovegood for nearly seven years….The last time he ever saw Elysina Lovegood.   
  
She had died the next day.  
  
He grunted, and tried to sit up. His head spun as he did, and he immediately fell back against the mattress. Several people said his name, sounding concerned.   
  
“What the hell happened?” Michael asked the room at large, not bothering trying to raise himself again. The details of the attack finally returned to him – Luna had been hurt badly. “What happened to Luna?”   
  
“She’ll be okay, Michael,” Sarah said, now standing by his bed. “She had a few broken ribs, but we fixed her up. She’s asleep now,” she added, gesturing to another bed in the room, where Luna was laying, unnoticed by Michael until now. She looked peaceful and serene, and seeing her put Michael's mind at ease. Luna always looked so calm while asleep; Michael sometimes wondered what she dreamt about to leave her so relaxed.  
  
Jeff looked at him, apparently trying to decide something. “She saved your life,” he said after moment. “He was going to kill you, man. She used her Animagus form to protect you.” Michael felt a surge of both pride and something else, something that made him want to crawl into bed with Luna right then and there.  
  
“What about Harry?” Michael asked, trying again to sit up and this time succeeding. “I heard you saying something about him,” he added to Hermione.   
  
“Yes, he’s inside Voldemort’s mind right now. It happens someti –”   
  
“Yeah, I know,” Michael said, swinging his legs off the bed, “he can sometimes get looks into what Voldemort’s up to. He told me a while ago. But what do you mean he’s stuck?”   
  
“Well, that’s the best way I know to explain it,” Hermione admitted. “It usually only lasts a couple minutes, if that. But he’s been locked in the bathroom for nearly ten minutes…I've warned him he needs to learn to block him out.”   
  
“And he won't let you in?” Michael asked, standing up and swaying slightly. He walked over to Luna and stared down at her, needing to make sure she was alright.   
  
“Well, he doesn’t know what’s going on around him, really,” Ron answered. “He probably can't hear us. But you’re the one we were worried about.”   
  
“Me?” Michael repeated, placing a hand on Luna’s forehead. It felt perfectly normal, warm but not hot.  
  
“Yeah, you were the worst off,” Jeff filled in. “Ron, Harry, and Hermione were Petrified, me and Sarah were Stunned, and Luna had that guy…attacking her.” Michael’s fists clenched, and he realized how sore every bit of him was, right down to his fingers. “Magical Exhaustion mate, that’s serious….”   
  
“I'm fine, really,” Michael said, feeling as though anything that had almost happened to him was nothing compared to what happened to Luna. He didn’t need them worrying over him while Luna was still incapacitated and Harry was MIA.  
  
“Barely,” Jeff muttered. “You made it okay, but if you push it that much again, you could be left with no magic at all…its happened to powerful Wizards before.”   
  
“It was necessary,” Michael said, kissing Luna gently on the forehead and turning away from her. For once, none of his friends gave him a look or remark. “Every bit of energy I used, I needed. We needed.”   
  
“Most of it, yes,” said Hermione. “But what about when you and Luna stayed behind to fight those things? What was the point of that?”   
  
“We sealed them in,” Michael explained. “It would mean a lot of trouble for everyone if they managed to get out.” Michael didn’t mention the fact that he and Luna had made no prior plan for this; they had simply acted together, almost unconsciously. “Where’s the Ring?” he asked suddenly, checking his pockets. “I don’t have it!”   
  
“It’s here,” Ron said, holding out two halves of a small golden ring. Michael reached out and took them, staring wide eyed.   
  
“You destroyed it?” he asked in a whisper. “How?”   
  
“Snapped it in half,” Ron said, looking much more relaxed now that his part in the destruction of the Slytherin Seven was done. “It was pretty weak, it didn’t take much. I don't think it was real gold.”   
  
Just then, Harry gave a loud yell from the bathroom, and all heads turned his way.   
  
“Harry?” Hermione called. “Harry, can you hear us?” He didn’t respond, so Michael strode over to the door and banged on it.   
  
“Harry! Harry, let us in!” Michael yelled, hammering on the wood. His answer was only another scream. “Dammit!” Michael hissed. “Where’s my wand?”   
  
“Here!” Sarah said, sounding alarmed and throwing it to him. He caught it and said “ _Alohamora_!” Nothing happened.   
  
“It won't work,” Hermione said. “We already tried it, the hotel has protection against the unlocking charm.”   
  
“We’ve got to get to him,” Jeff said urgently. “Should we blast the door down?”   
  
“ _Legilimens_!” Michael said desperately, hoping this random idea would work. To his surprise, it did. He was suddenly surrounded by darkness. He assumed this was because he was in Harry's mind, and Harry was in Voldemort's. Michael had no connection to Voldemort, so he was trapped in limbo, in Harry’s currently empty head. Dammit.  
  
“Harry!” his mind called, trying to reach him. “Harry, I need you to help me! Come on, man, I need a hand!” He felt Harry’s presence, and then the darkness changed, became less dense. He and Harry were standing side by side, in a dimly lit room, along with two other men.   
  
Harry was watching the other two in horror, and he barely acknowledged Michael’s presence. It seemed that he and Harry could see each other, but the other men couldn’t see them. With a shock of recognition, Michael realized the other two men were Voldemort and the assassin from earlier. The mercenary’s hood remained on.  
  
He was not bowing, but bent over slightly, cradling his wounded hand. Voldemort was radiating anger, and the assassin did not seem pleased either.   
  
“You failed?” Voldemort hissed. “How were you defeated by those children?” The man stiffened and made a small growl of annoyance and pain. “It seems I should not have entrusted such a newcomer with an important task…had I handled this myself, Potter would have fallen.”  
  
“But you didn’t,” the other man snapped. Voldemort’s eyes widened and the man seemed to realize his mistake. “You sent me because I am capable,” he pressed on quickly. “You need me because your wand can't fight Potter’s, right? And you're far too intelligent to challenge their entire group with some stranger’s wand?”  
  
“Yes…” Voldemort said quietly, “yes, that is true. I see you are injured,” he added carelessly, indicating his severed hand.   
  
“It was Michael,” he growled, his anger growing as he said the name. “And his bitch! Who is she anyway?”   
  
“Ah, do you mean Miss Luna Lovegood?” Voldemort asked. He watched the wounded man closely. “The blonde haired girl who has recently taken to traveling with our heroes?”  
  
“Yes, her! Fucking Witch was the only one with a shred of talent….Though when she wasn’t trying to eat my face,” he said thoughtfully, “she was rather good looking.” He chuckled. “It would just break Michael’s heart if I was to take her from him….”  
  
Voldemort’s eyes narrowed at the man. Something changed in his face.  
  
“Ah, so is that what you desire now?” Voldemort asked in a near whisper. “Not only money and power, but women too…? If nothing else, you're as ambitious as I’d hoped. Well, I suppose if you do desire Miss Lovegood, that could be arranged….”   
  
“What is the new price?” he asked hungrily, eagerly.   
  
“I want them all dead,” Voldemort said simply. “Except for the girl, if you want her. But you will not only bring me the Seven, those that remain, anyway…” he trailed off, looking murderous, “but you will also strike down all those who have defied me today. Enough is enough. Bring me Potter, do what you want with the girl, kill the rest, they are unimportant. Do you understand?”   
  
“Yeah yeah, I got it,” he muttered, wincing as he moved his wrist. Harry turned to look at Michael, who was staring at the assassin with more hatred then Harry had ever witnessed pass between two people, including himself and Severus Snape.   
  
“Also, you tell me the Lacerte have been awakened,” Voldemort added, looking at him to confirm this.   
  
“Yes, I saw it in the Lovegood girl’s mind, as I stood over her,” he said, licking his lips. “Lizard people, huh? Do you have a plan?”   
  
“Possibly,” Voldemort responded, considering the man. “But not now, while you are weak and Jacobs and Potter remain on the island, no doubt soon to be joined by half of STRIKE or the Order….Run away, boy, and lick your wounds. I will call you again when I require your service.”   
  
The man nodded and disappeared with a crack. Voldemort began to pace, and Michael felt Harry pulling out of Voldemort’s mind, and felt inclined to follow. He did not know what would happen if Harry left and he remained.   
  
Seconds later, he was back on the carpeted floor of the Sixth Star Hotel, and Harry was opening the bathroom door. He stumbled out and as one, they looked over at Luna. Michel didn’t know what to say. He felt cold, furious, horrified, and a strong desire to vomit all at once. His teeth were actually clattering, and he shook with a sickeningly pure form of rage.   
  
That man.  
  
He knew that fucking voice.  
  
“What did you two see?” Ron asked as he helped Michael up.   
  
“The mercenary and Voldemort,” Michael said, before turning to Jeff and Sarah. “Hey, can you two get a hold of STRIKE for me? There are a few things I need to talk to them about….”   
  
They nodded without asking for an explanation.   
  
“I think Voldemort’s after those things that attacked us,” Harry put in for Michael, who was not in any mood for words. Not calm ones at least. “We heard him talking about it just now.”   
  
“And we need to inform them that the Ring had been destroyed,” Jeff put in. “We’ll just have to say the six of us did it, we won't tell them Luna was here,” he added to Michael.   
  
He nodded, still worried. “That guy…he said he wanted Luna,” he told them, his voice shaking with fury as he said it. “Now he’s supposed to not only find the Seven, but kill us all, and take Luna for himself.” He paused, not looking anyone in the eyes. “As far as I'm concerned, she doesn’t need to know the last part. As long we stay on our guard, and Luna on hers, she won't have to worry about it. Okay?”   
  
“Michael, is that a good idea?” Jeff asked after a second of hesitation. Michael focused on his feet. “I mean, you go against STRIKE and her father to tell her about her mom, but now you want to keep stuff from her?”  
  
“It’s wrong,” Hermione said bluntly. Michael, momentarily galvanized by a shot of anger, finally lifted his head.   
  
“Do any of you want to be the one to tell her that her first – second, whatever – mission against Voldemort ended with some kind of madman out for her?” he challenged harshly. “You want to scare her like that?”  
  
“You're not worried about scaring her, you're afraid it’s your fault,” Hermione shot back, almost choking up on her emotional words.   
  
“Of course it’s my fucking fault,” Michael seethed, furious at Hermione for vocalizing exactly what he had felt. Why did she always have to be so fucking insightful? “But I –”  
  
“I know why Michael doesn’t want to tell her,” Sarah interrupted. Michael immediately froze up and cast a curious glance at her. She shook her head and took a step closer to him. “He's got a good reason,” she said seriously, now stepping sideways so that Michael  _had_ to look at her. “I don't like deceiving Luna any more than the rest of you, but, for now…I think he's right. As long as he means to tell her eventually.”  
  
“I do,” Michael muttered. Dammit. He forgot Sarah was smart too. He appreciated the help, but was surprised Sarah had already figured out what exactly was troubling him. “I'm going to tell her eventually, just…not right now. All right?” he added, aggressively and desperately to the group at large. Harry, Ron, and Jeff shared expressions of suspicion and unease, but nodded.  
  
Hermione huffed, still rather hotly. “You’d better not hurt Luna,” was all she said before turning her back on him and striding over to Luna’s bed, sitting down on the edge of it.  
  
“Don’t worry mate, we won't tell her,” Ron assured Michael. “We’ll look after her. Hell, she could probably do it herself….That was mad, back on the beach. I've never seen Luna like that, she barely fought back at the Ministry! And if you had been awake or we hadn’t been surprised –”   
  
“Then he wouldn’t be breathing,” Michael said darkly, glancing again at Luna. “And if he ever tries to touch her again….” He trailed off, unable to put into words the horrors he would inflict on the man. He had chosen to make this personal, to make this about revenge of some kind? Michael steeled himself then and there to teach him what revenge really was.  
  
“So what now?” Jeff asked, staring around the room, as if he was expecting to see writing on the walls.   
  
“First, we warn STRIKE about those things down there in that temple,” Michael said, falling back into his role as a leader, “because it sounds like Voldemort wants to free them, so they’ll definitely want to put up at least a watchdog force, if not a full guard. Then, I need to return to London for a while; I won't be going back to Hogwarts, at least not for a bit.”   
  
“Why?” Harry asked at once. “What are you doing in London?”   
  
“Personal stuff,” Michael said simply. “It won't take me long, but it’s important, it might save our lives….The rest of you can go back to school and just, you know, do school stuff until we get another lead on the Seven, or technically, the Four now.”   
  
“‘Do school stuff,’” Ron repeated, shaking his head. “Seems a bit pointless, is all, after what we’ve just been through, doesn’t it?”  
  
“Ron,” Michael said very seriously. “ _I_ just made Hermione very angry. Leave that job to me.”  
  
“So what, we leave tomorrow?” Sarah asked, sounding disappointed. “Or should we head out today?”   
  
“What are you talking about?” Michael said, surprised. “I said that if we found the Ring, we’d stay out here for a week, so that’s what we’re doing! STRIKE’s paying!”   
  
“But I thought what you were doing was important,” Sarah said, confused. “I thought you had to go to London.”   
  
Michael sighed.  
  
“Well, yeah. It is. But right now…I want to act my damn age and not worry about assassins or Voldemort. Listen, he’s in no condition to come after us. We’ve just fought through an underground temple of lizard-men, dueled a madman, and destroyed the Ring of Four. We’ve earned a week of screwing around, I think. I mean, damn, Harry, have you ever  _been_ on a vacation?”   
  
“The Dursleys took me with them to Germany once,” Harry shrugged. “But that was only because no one would agree to babysit the nutter Potter boy, and I'm pretty sure they thought I would steal all their money and the car and vanish while they were gone if they left me alone. I stayed in the hotel all day. It was all right though, I got to watch whatever I wanted on the television.”  
  
“Harry…” Jeff said slowly, giving him a concerned glance, “you know we can have them killed, right? STRIKE might even do it for nothing as a favor!”  
  
“Not worth it,” Harry said while Jeff and Sarah and Ron laughed. “I’d rather use my favor to ask them to  _not_ murder Michael and Luna.”  
  
“Sounds good to me,” Jeff said, rubbing his hands together. Hermione was smiling now. “By the way,” he added, an evil smile very familiar to Michael on his face, “maybe a kiss from Prince Charming would wake the sleeping girl.”   
  
“Good idea,” said Sarah. “Now we just have to find a Prince Charming…that could be difficult.”   
  
“I wouldn’t try the boy next to you Sarah,” came a dreamy voice, “he’s spoken for.”   
  
Luna was sitting up, a hand against her ribs, though she smiled. She made to get up, and was able to do so, though, like Michael, stumbled slightly as she did. Hermione stood up quickly behind her, not touching her but ready to catch her should the need arise.  
  
“Am I now?” Michael asked, eyebrows raised, grinning.   
  
“Didn’t you call me your girlfriend, back on the beach?” Luna asked distractedly, looking for her wand.   
  
“Yeah, I did,” Michael said, the grin falling from his face as he thought back to the events a few hours previously. “I didn’t know you were still conscious.” Why was he deceiving her?  _Was_ silence deceiving?  
  
“Oh, yes I was,” she said, finding it and tucking it behind her ear. “That was very brave, what you did, back there.” Michael smiled again. “And very stupid, you could have died. You were so tired, what were you thinking?”   
  
“About you,” he said in a low voice. “If you don’t like stupid stunts, we’d better break it off now, because I'm full of them. I think I might actually be  _primarily composed_ of stupid stunts. Sorry, Luna, but I am a Gryffindor, after all,” he finished. In less than two seconds, she crossed the room, kissed him quickly, and backed away to look at him better. Michael felt suddenly intensely proud of the speech he had just thrown together.  
  
“You really look awful,” said Luna bluntly, looking him up and down, coming to rest on his face. “You’re so pale….”   
  
“Look who’s talking…” Michael grumbled, trying to embarrass her for once.   
  
“I know,” she said easily. Now she observed herself. “We’ve been here for two days, and I've pretty much never worn a full shirt since we got here.”   
  
“I noticed,” Michael smirked.   
  
“And still, nothing,” she continued, gesturing at her light skin.   
  
“Well, we’ve got time,” Michael told her. “We’re here for a week, so let’s enjoy it, all right?”   
  
“So we are staying?” Luna asked.   
  
“Next person to ask that gets sent home,” Michael joked, uniting the group at once in annoyance. “Fine,” he said, throwing up his hands. “Next person who isn’t Luna. She's staying no matter what. The rest of you can swim home.”  
  
“You're going to pick a fight with a guy who's basically immune to all things that aren’t Lord Voldemort?” Jeff asked, jerking his thumb at Harry, who shrugged as if Jeff had a point.  
  
“Are you sure that's a good idea?” Hermione asked nervously. Michael frowned at her. “Staying on the island,” she clarified.  
  
“Why not? Worried about Dumbledore?”  
  
“No,” Hermione said tersely, “I'm more worried about the two groups of people we least want to meet possibly joining us here. I mean, really,” she said, sounding exasperated, “you and Luna are in hiding from STRIKE, aren’t you?” Michael and Luna nodded at the same time. “Well you just invited them to the island, didn’t you?” Hermione demanded.  
  
“Well, I ordered them to patrol one certain spot, yeah,” Michael admitted. “But listen Hermione, you're absolutely right in that we’ll be in a mess of hell when they find out about Luna and I – which they will – but it’s not like they're actively looking for Elysina Lovegood’s daughter. When you join STRIKE, you don't sign a ‘Thou shalt not contact Luna Lovegood’ document. The only people who would know what we had done are people who had worked alongside Luna’s mom, at least seven years ago. That's a pretty long life expectancy for a STRIKE agent. The chances of anyone spotting us and trying to take me in because I'm with a very pretty blonde girl are slim.”  
  
“Well if your ‘allies’ aren’t a threat,” Hermione persisted, “what about our enemies? Voldemort knows we’re on this island, what if he comes for us?” Sarah bit her lip, Ron shuttered a little at the name, and Luna even looked mildly distressed by this.   
  
Michael merely shook his head. “There are  _seven_ of us here,” he said. “Now, I don't think for a minute Voldemort is scared of any of us – me, Luna, Harry, anyone. I don't think he's even scared of all of us. We’re not that powerful…not yet. Someday soon though…” Michael trailed off.  “But he won't come here. The main reason is the one you just pointed out. I didn’t just call those STRIKE agents here to guard against lizard men, I foresaw exactly what you did. The Dark Lord won't come here and try to fight us, not with his assassin out of commission, all seven of us on guard, and an entire division of STRIKE at my command if need be. Trust me Hermione, this island is as secure as Hogwarts right now.”   
  
Hermione was staring at him. Michael could tell she hadn’t expected such a well thought out answer and was now struggling to find any further issue. Luna preempted her.   
  
“We have the smartest Witch in the school,” she said, nodding at Hermione, “the Chosen One,” Harry shifted uncomfortably, “and we have Michael Jacobs,” she finished, smiling at him. “I don't think You-Know-Who is  _that_ stupid.”  
  
“And it’s gonna be your birthday,” Jeff muttered.   
  
“Sure is,” Michael said happily. “And where better for a night of drinking and fun than the Caribbean?”   
  
“Of  _course_ that's how you're going to spend your birthday,” Sarah said with more than a slight scornfulness.  
  
“And what about us?” Harry demanded. “If you're going out drinking, what should we do?”  
  
“I don’t know, whatever teenagers do on a Caribbean island, during the school year, with great weather, and surrounded by their friends,” Michael said, snorting a little at Harry’s question.   
  
“And Luna doesn't get drunk,” Sarah pointed out, “that’s just these two,” she jerked a thumb at Michael and Jeff, who were searching their bags for an MD. “Right?”   
  
“Oh, we’ll see where it goes,” Luna said with a shrug, with a quick glance at where Michael and Jeff had finally managed to find one. They had turned it on and were attempting to locate the best bars and clubs on the island.   
  
Michael leaned in close to Jeff and muttered something in his ear. Jeff laughed and gave Michael a little shove; his friend scowled, looking non-amused.  Sarah shook her head, and Jeff yelled angrily from their corner,   
  
“Dammit! Over three-hundred miles and not a single club? What the hell? I love drinking with Muggles.”   
  
“A fairly decent amount of bars, though” Michael muttered. “And we don’t really need clubs, we can just do whatever anywhere, it’ll be fun anyway….”   
  
“Yeah, I suppose,” Jeff said quietly. He looked over at the other five, before turning back to Michael and whispering something to Michael, pointing to a spot on the map, grinning widely. Michael sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.  
  
“What are you two doing?” Sarah asked impatiently, striding over to them.   
  
“Just a little party planning for a friend,” Jeff said innocently, though he hastily switched off the MD, causing the map to vanish. “Gee, when did that become a crime?”   
  
“When you two planned to go to a strip club,” Sarah said accusingly, snatching the MD from Jeff and turning it back on.   
  
“Hey, that’s mine!” Jeff said angrily, trying to get it back from her.   
  
“Let’s see…” Sarah said, scanning the map, ignoring Jeff. “Aha, I knew it!  _The Dancing Veela_! You two are the worst!”   
  
“But they’re real Veela!” Jeff whined, still trying to retrieve his MD. “Come on, lighten up! It’s one night!”   
  
“You two are pigs! Aren't they Luna?”   
  
‘Well…” she said, considering Michael's ashamed, slightly disappointed face. “Are you planning on having sex with these girls?” she asked Michael eventually.   
  
“What?” he said, startled. “No! It was Jeff’s idea!”   
  
“Are you going to kiss them?”  
  
“No, of course not! Hey, I’m sorry, we won't go…we’ll just, I don’t know, get drunk and go diving or something….That should be pretty interesting….”  
  
“No, you can go,” Luna said unexpectedly. “Just don’t fall in love please.”   
  
“WHAT?” Michael, Jeff, and Sarah said together.   
  
“They just want to see some breasts,” Luna said patiently to Sarah. “I don’t plan on showing them mine, but if you want to…?”   
  
“What? No!” Sarah said, sounding offended.   
  
“Then it’s settled,” Luna said, turning back to Michael and Jeff, who were beside themselves with excitement. “It’s like being in a nice store. You can look, but can't touch. Is that okay?”   
  
“You are the best person, ever,” Jeff said, stepping forward to kiss her, but being knocked out of the way by Michael.   
  
“The best girlfriend ever,” Michael corrected him, kissing her quickly on the lips.  
  
“I've never been anyone’s girlfriend before,” Luna said, smiling hugely. She looked around at Hermione and Sarah for advice. “What do I do now?” she asked happily. Hermione simply shrugged, but Sarah laughed and cast Michael a look he knew meant trouble.   
  
“You yell, Luna,” Sarah said wisely. “You yell a lot. You get half his food when you eat. You get to make him wear clean clothes in public. And you get pestered constantly for sex.”  
  
Luna raised her eyebrows and turned back to Michael. “I don't think I want to do any of those things,” she said to him. “Except maybe the food part?” she added hopefully.  
  
Michael merely laughed and kissed her again. Luna failed to notice him flip Sarah a rude hand gesture over her shoulder, who was giving him a look that could mean nothing else besides “ _After I just defended you_ ….”


	17. Chapter 17: The Legend of the Yongheng Tree

The group spent the next five days in a complete state of relaxation. Well, almost. Michael had been understandably on edge since his and Harry’s vision, but had remained his usual laid back self, for the most part. Publicly. Privately, he was a wreck. He was trashed. He was horrified. But to his friends, he was happy, whole, young.

On the fifth night since the destruction of the Ring of Four, Harry and Ron returned from the shopping trip Hermione had dragged them to, to find Michael and Jeff up in the boy’s hotel room, counting Muggle money. 

“What’re you two doing?” Harry asked, throwing the single shirt he had bought onto his bed without a thought. 

“Counting,” Jeff said simply, setting up a stack of bills in one pile. This pile was much larger than the other, and Michael added a few bills to it too. “Where’s Hermione?” 

“She, Sarah, and Luna went to eat,” Ron responded, sitting down on the bed and opening his bag, putting his new belt inside. 

“And you didn’t go?” Michael asked incredulously. “ _You_?” 

“Hey, I think about more than food!” Ron said defensively. 

“Yeah, and the other thing you think about just left with Luna and Sarah, so what's the deal, huh?” 

“Well, Hermione said she wasn’t done shopping yet…” Ron admitted. 

“Enough said,” Michael said seriously. “I don’t think any of those three get much ‘girl time.’ I’m sure they're enjoying their time out doing…whatever that involves.”

“Why are you counting so much Muggle money?” Harry asked. “I always like to carry some with me, but aren’t you going a bit overboard?” 

“Apparently you’ve never tried to tip a stripper with Galleons…horrible mess,” Jeff said, adding yet more money to the large stack. “That’s what this one is, the other one’s for the rest of the night’s festivities.” 

“Well have fun,” Ron said resentfully. “Harry, Hermione, and me are going to spend the night out by the pool. Fully clothed.” 

“You know,” Michael said, rolling his eyes, “if you really want to see naked girls, there are ways to do it without paying.” 

“What?” Ron snapped, turning red. 

“Not true,” Jeff corrected Michael. “You may not actually hand them the money, but you always pay somehow.” 

“That’s not right man,” Michael shook his head, grinning away from Jeff.

“No, but it’s true. Sorry boys, maybe next year.” Michael and Jeff swept out of the room, laughing. 

That night, Harry, Ron, and Hermione hung back at the hotel, deciding to spend the night lounging about together while their older friends went out on their own for a night of over-age excitement. They ran all around the little island, switching taxis every time one grew tired waiting for them. It was a great night, despite a small concern on Michael’s part. As much as he enjoyed Luna's company, he had been a little worried she would not enjoy the kind of fun he, Jeff, and Sarah often partook in. But while Luna did not drink, or yell, or stagger as much as her friends, she sang even louder and did not seem to mind Michael’s frequent laughing kisses in the slightest. Around one in the morning, Jeff turned to Michael, slurring his speech a little as he spoke. 

“Hey, Michael… I fink – err, I think…I think it’s time we had our own little party,” he laughed loudly, “you know what I mean!” 

Michael’s brains swirled in his head. He didn’t feel very well, and frankly, he was much less excited about visiting the club than he had previously claimed. If he had been honest, he would have simply admitted to preferring to go back and either find Harry and the others and relax or have a lie down in his bed, alone or otherwise. But he was still drunk and still eighteen, so…

“Yeah man! Let’s do it!” 

Sarah sighed sadly, turning to Luna, who like her, was a bit tipsy, but nowhere near the level achieved by the boys. “Off they go then,” she said, as Michael and Jeff took off down the street, completely forgetting the cab that was waiting for them. “Back to the hotel?” 

Luna nodded and they climbed into the waiting cab. “What about your boyfriends?” the driver asked gruffly. 

“Oh, don’t worry about them, they’ll be all right,” Luna said, before Sarah could answer. “Can you take us back to the Sixth Star, please?” 

The cabbie grunted and put the car in drive. Sarah turned to Luna. “Hey,” she said slowly, freed by the alcohol but also slightly impaired by it, “listen, Luna…I hope…I mean, Michael’s a great guy, he’s one of my best friends, but I hope he's not taking advantage of you.”

“Take advantage of me?” Luna repeated, cocking her head.

“Yeah,” Sarah nodded, a little uncomfortable, worried she might be betraying her friend. “I mean, you didn’t _have_ to let him go to that stupid club. He loves you Luna, and honestly, I think he always will.”

“I’m not a doormat,” Luna said easily, smiling at Sarah. “I don’t accommodate him because I’m afraid he’ll leave otherwise. I do it because I love him too. And…because I think he deserves a little silly fun. He’ll have to grow up eventually, we all will…but I’m happy to let him be a boy for a bit longer.”

“He just turned eighteen Luna,” Sarah chuckled. “Doesn’t that make him a man?”

“No,” Luna replied. “His actions do.”

Sarah shut her eyes and leaned back, glad to hear what she was hearing. “He tells me things, you know. Stuff he’d never tell Jeff. I guess he feels like he can let his guard down a little around me, because I’m a girl.” She smirked, eyes still closed. “Fool.”

“What does he say about me?” Luna asked with interest.

“That you’re exactly what he hoped you were,” Sarah replied. “He was worried you might've changed over the years – you haven’t, according to him. He spent seven years looking for Luna, but he was afraid you might have been gone. Other than that, standard stuff. He loves you in a way he didn’t think he’d ever love a girl, he already has a hard time imaging a life without you, and his main reason for fighting Voldemort know is to make sure you two have a chance at a happy life together. All that business. And yet after that, we find your boyfriend at a strip club tonight. Typically indecisive of him, huh Luna? Luna?”

Sarah opened her eyes and looked over at Luna, who returned her gaze with tears in her eyes. “Thank you, Sarah.”

***************  
  
“Hell yeah!” Jeff shouted into the night, leaning on Michael to keep himself standing. They were staggering around the exit of the _Veela_ , both far drunker than they had been going in. “Did you see that one girl? The blonde one?” 

“How could I not?” Michael mumbled. “She was all over me the entire time,” he said proudly, attempting to stand up straight and failing. 

“And you still kept your prom dress!” Jeff yelled at him, punching him in the arm. 

“I kept my what?” Michael asked, confused and landing a blow on Jeff for good measure. 

“Oh,” he belched. “Your promise. Your promise to Luna, you didn’t get with that girl!” he yelled, punching him again. 

“Yeah, she’s great,” Michael said, a distant look in his eye. 

“Totally, did you see her when she was upside down?” Jeff asked excitedly. 

“I meant Luna,” Michael said quietly, but then he smirked. “But yes, I did actually.” 

“You should marry that girl,” Jeff told him seriously. “You two are perfect. Perfect like…perfect like the pair on that blonde girl!” He laughed, apparently he had impressed himself with the analogy. But it did get Michael’s alcohol slowed mind working again. 

“We should go back to the hotel,” he said suddenly. “Taxi! Hello, taxi? Come on!” 

“What?” Jeff asked, alarmed by his sudden desire to end the night of fun. “Why?” 

“I've got stuff to do,” Michael said, looking at him, communicating what he was hoping was waiting for him back at the hotel., “So, I'm calling this…over!” Jeff sighed and clambered into the cab waiting for them. “Sixth Star Hotel, and step on it!” Michael said to the driver who groaned and pulled away. 

They arrived at the hotel minutes later, and Michael shoved a couple Sickles into the man’s hand, who looked at them suspiciously. “What the hell’s this, boy? You trying to trick me?” he asked loudly. Michael quickly realized his mistake and replaced the silver coins with Muggle money and hurried out of the taxi, the driver watching him closely. 

“Where do we do…where do we go now?” Jeff asked dazedly, looking around for anyone they knew, standing in the lobby. 

“I don’t give a damn what you do,” Michael told him, walking over to the elevator, “but I know exactly where I'm headed.” With that he stepped into the lift, pressed a button, and watched Jeff’s annoyed, drunken face vanish as the doors slid shut. 

He strode purposely down the dark hallway, pausing at rooms 354 and 355. Which was more likely? He picked 355, and pressed his ear against the door. He heard nothing, but something pulled him to it anyway. 

He fumbled around for his card key. He found it deep in his pocket, and slid it through the slot, changing the light from red to green and allowing him inside. He opened the door and was met by a hauntingly serene sight. The lights were turned off, instead the room was illuminated by a trail of floating candles, a line on each side, leading to the bed, which was covered with a quantity of golden leaves. The candles flickered but provided little light – atmosphere was obviously their main function.

“Do you like them?”

 Luna had spoken from the darkness, hidden somewhere beyond the bed, near the attached bathroom. She stepped into the light, wearing nothing but her bra and underwear, holding her wand loosely at her side. Everything she had on was a pale white, silky and sensual. Michael wondered if his heartbeat would ever return to its normal speed.

“This?” Luna asked, gesturing with her wand. Then she smiled in a silly sort of way. “Oh, that’s not what you're staring at, is it? Well, if you _are_ wondering, it’s because I didn’t feel safe keeping the candles up without it. I don’t want to have to rebuild the hotel, but I did want to make everything special for our first time.”

“Our first time?” Michael asked, still frozen in place.

“Yes,” Luna answered simply. She sat down carefully on the edge of the bed nearest Michael and patted the spot next to her.

“This is amazing,” Michael said, looking around with awe as he moved to join her.

Luna’s smile became wider and less controlled. “You haven't even seen the best part yet.”

So it turned out Michael’s heart _could_ beat faster. “The best part?”

Luna said nothing, but instead glanced over at the rest of the bed. No longer able to hold back, Michael made to lay back but Luna stopped him with a desperate shake of her head.

“These are from China,” Luna said, obviously speaking of the slightly luminescent leaves. “It took a lot of searching to find a service to sell them, but I finally got in contact with a Wizard from Beijing who trades in them. There's a legend about them, do you want to hear it?”

Michael hesitated a fraction of a second before answering.

“I know you're excited,” Luna said patiently, “but this is very special to me –”

“It’s special to me too,” Michael assured her quickly.

“I'm glad. Well, the story goes that in ancient China, there was a young couple who were deeply in love. They had married and begun to build a life together, but just as they had settled into a home, word came that war had been declared. The young man, known as a skilled swordsman, was expected to join his comrades and march off to war against a group of invaders. Because their love was so new, the young man worried his lover would forget him while he was gone. You know wars lasted a long time back then. So he took her out to a field near their home and picked out a special tree, the Yǒnghéng tree. He and his wife stood under that tree and he drew his blade and carved their names into that tree. Then, he sliced off the segment of bark with her name on it, put it in his shirt, and told her that he would always carry it with her so she was close to his heart. He told her whenever she missed him, to look out at that tree and remember this moment.

“Now just as he said this, a great wind blew across the countryside, so strong that it shook the tree, causing almost all of those golden leaves to fall down on the couple. They took it as a bad omen, but the young man knew his duty and so they parted, frightened they might never see each other again. After six months, the girl began to worry for her husband. What if he had been killed fighting? How would she move on? She would be forced to stare at that sad tree the rest of her life. Finally, eight months after the man had left, he came home. His wife was so happy to see him and he held her so tight she thought she might burst. But she realized immediately something was different about him.

“She wondered if he had been forced to do horrible things, as one does in war. She knew she would always love him, but was fearful he no longer loved himself. Despite this, eight months apart had left them both eager to reunite passionately and after they slept together that night, the woman happened to notice a scar on her lover’s chest. When she asked him about it, he avoided her question, assuring her it was nothing. But she knew from its placement it was very close to being a deadly wound, very near his heart.

“Finally, he admitted to having been struck by an arrow from a horseman during a battle. He then got up and from his things he retrieved the thick piece of bark he had carved her name into so long ago. It had a similar scar on it. He had been keeping it within his clothing, next to his heart, always, as he had promised it. It had stopped the arrow from injuring him fatally, taking part of the damage for him. The warrior broke down, apologizing again and again to his wife for coming so close to death, for her knew exactly how painful his death would be for her. He swore to never enter battle again, telling her they would raise animals or crops or make pottery the rest of their lives.

“His wife knew this was impossible, for they would be shamed by not only their neighbors, but by themselves. The young woman reminded her husband she had protected him once and promised him she would do so forever. So rather than learn to sew clothing, she learned to hunt with the bow. For years, they did live happily, working pleasant jobs and enjoying life in their community. But years after the man had carved their names into the tree, the invaders returned and another call to fight was sent out across the land. The couple once again met under their tree, but this time, the woman used her own knife to whittle off her husband’s name, tucking that piece into her own clothing. No divine wind blew that day, but the young woman was not worried. This time, she told him, we need no other protection – we have each other.

“The man resisted the idea at first, but his loving wife would not be denied what she truly wanted. So this time when the army marched, she marched with it, silencing the jeers of the other soldiers with her quick and accurate shots. Even with this skill, the army’s leaders worried the couple’s bond might make them risk the mission or others for each other, but when they presented this idea to the couple, the young man had an answer ready. It was true, he told them, he would indeed throw aside anything else for his lover. But this could be an advantage. He asked they be given special assignments, be allowed to work on their own, scouting and hunting and dispatching important targets. The generals agreed and soon, the couple became what could be considered the first special forces team in history. They fought side by side through many campaigns, and when they reached old age, they had become known as a legendary warrior couple, surely the earthly incarnations of a god and goddess.

“The couple was uninterested in this. For when they had done their duty, protected their land, and each other, they returned home, put down their weapons, and picked up their hoe and needle and lived happily ever after. But until the end of their lives, any time one of them was forced to leave for an extended time, they made sure to meet under the Yǒnghéng tree to guarantee they would one day meet again. And that’s the story.”

Michael took a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. He tried very hard to focus on Luna’s story, he really did, but he was still a little drunk and – even more distracting – Luna was still in a state of very little dress. “So…it’s not a story about never forgetting people,” he said slowly.

“No,” Luna agreed, “it’s about always seeing them again.” She lifted her wand. “The legend is that if two people find themselves in the center of a fall of these leaves, they're destined to always find each other, no matter what.”

“What if I don’t believe in destiny?” Michael asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Then we make our own.”

And she raised her wand above her head, giving a tight twirl. The mass of leaves flew up above them, spinning like a miniature whirlwind before slowly falling back down on them, a few at a time. Michael reached out his hand and a single leaf fell into it; he slid it into his pocket, careful not to damage the fragile thing. Luna, meanwhile, was simply staring at him, smiling. A few leaves stuck in her hair, giving her a sort of glowing halo.

Without really thinking, and without any devious intent, Michael leaned forward, placed his hand on the back of her head, and pulled her into a deep kiss. Luna shut her eyes and responded with her own effort, reaching down to tug at his belt.

Michael was ecstatic, but couldn’t help noticing how her hands fumbled about. His guess had been right…she had never done this before. She finally pulled his belt free and he made to fall down on the bed with her, but she resisted.

“They're lovely,” she said, slightly breathless, nodding at the leaves. “But very itchy.” She waved her wand again, sending the leaves flying about the room, clearing their bed. Unfortunately, her careless spell had also blown a few threw the still hovering candles.

“Luna, you’re hot enough!” Michael muttered offhandedly, rapidly drawing his own wand and sending a blast of cold air around the room, snuffing out every light. He turned to apologize for the hasty spell, which had no doubt left her freezing, but was only met by her howling laughter. “Luna?”

Her only response was to pull him down onto her, the bed creaking slightly in the pitch dark room. Michael very much hoped his eyes would adjust soon – he didn’t want to miss anything. “I think I need some body warmth,” Luna giggled into his ear.

“Oh?” Michael asked playfully. “That the only reason you're doing this?”

“No, it’s because I think I love you.” 

He kissed her on the neck and shut his eyes, only needing to feel her presence. “What a strange coincidence. I think I love you too.”   
  
******************************************************************************  
  
“WHAT THE FUCK?” 

“I think you just missed that, Jeff.” 

Michael sat straight up, Luna beside him doing the same. They pulled the blankets up to cover themselves, as Harry, Ron, and Jeff had just barged into the room. 

“We wondered when we didn’t see you all night, but come on!” Jeff yelled, looking extremely tired. “A tie on the door, or something….” 

“Sorry,” Michael said awkwardly. “But if you didn’t come here last night, where were you?” 

“That’s what I’d like to know…” he muttered, massaging his temple. 

“We slept with the girls,” Harry told him, and Michael and Luna looked at each other in shock. “Not like that!” Harry quickly corrected them. “I mean we knew you might be in here, so we slept on the floor of the other room.” 

“Well, thanks,” Michael said gratefully, “But would you guys mind leaving for a minute, so we can…?” he trailed of, gesturing to Luna, clutching the sheet to her thin outline. 

“Again?” Jeff asked, sounding annoyed and impressed at the same time. 

“No, idiot, get dressed!” Michael said, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh, yeah, sure.” They retreated out the door, shutting it carefully behind them. 

“So…” Michael said, turning to Luna. “You first or me?” 

She shrugged, smiled, and stood up, allowing the sheet fall back onto him, leaving her completely exposed. Michael started, wide eyed, both at her boldness and her beauty. “Wow,” he said as she pulled on her underwear. 

“Nothing you haven't seen before, I take it?” she said, wandering off to pick up a discarded shirt. 

“Not of that caliber,” he said softly, getting to his feet and attempting to locate his pants, which he found halfway across the rather large, luxurious room. “So that was really your first…?”

“Yes, and it was rather good. Wasn’t it?” she added, looking slightly nervous. 

“The best,” Michael said, taking a drink out of the mini-fridge. “Water,” he added at the look on her face, “I had enough for all seven of us last night…Too bad I don’t know how to make coffee, that’s what they should teach us in Potions…” 

“I can make coffee,” Luna piped up. She was standing in front of the large mirror hanging above the bed, running her fingers through her hair. It was rather pointless though, as the “straightened” version of her hair was simply less messy. “I make it for Dad at home. He’s a great dad, but he’s not very good in the kitchen…Mum was a great cook though.” 

“Yeah, I remember she made the best sandwiches,” Michael said, smiling reminiscently. “Lunch at your house, almost every day when we were kids. It was great.” 

“I wish I did,” Luna said, tears threatening her blue eyes. Michael suddenly felt terrible. He had been so caught up in the afterglow he had forgotten to mind his words.

“That’s part of the reason I'm going to London,” Michael told her, wiping away the tear that ran down to her nose. “That’s where the Nation Magical Library is, I’ll do a bit of reading before I go back to Hogwarts. We’re going to do it, Luna. We’ll get your memories back. You’ve given me the tools to figure this out.” 

She cheered a little. “Thank you, for doing so much to try to put my pieces back together…it means a lot to me. But you still can't tell us why else you can't come back to school with us?” 

“No, Luna, I can't,” Michael said, shaking his head. It tore him up not to, but if his suspicions were right, then this was his battle, and he would be the one to fight it. Not his friends, not Luna.  “It’s personal.” 

“Personal?” Luna repeated, suddenly cold. Michael almost took a step back; her tone and demeanor were suddenly so different than the Luna he knew. He hadn't seen her so warped since they were children, when he took one of her toys or – disastrously – stubbornly told her Snorkacks did not exist. He had been worried she would never forgive him for that one. “I think what we just did was pretty personal.”

“You're right, but Luna, if I'm wrong, I don’t want you to –” 

“ _You_ don’t want!” she said, loud and livid. Michael was slightly afraid. They always got along so well, and really, Luna showing such anger to anyone was rare. “Why don’t you try thinking about anyone other than yourself? You still don’t trust any of us!” 

“Luna…it’s not about trust –” 

“No! This trip, for example! You didn’t want us to come, because you were too concerned about us! Did you ever think how concerned we would have been about you? No, you didn’t!” She was crying openly now, and Michael was at a loss for what to say. He had been worried other his friends would be angry about the secrecy, but not Luna… “All this, and you still don’t trust me! Harry was right, you think you're better than all of us! Goodbye!” She stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. 

Ron, Harry, and Jeff walked in through the door she had just ran through, looking baffled and bewildered. 

“Umm…we just saw Luna,” Harry began. 

“And she didn’t look too happy,” Ron continued. 

“So we were wondering…” Jeff said. 

“What did you do?” they finished as one. 

“Were you…really bad at it?” Ron asked him in a voice usually reserved for the sick and dying. 

“No, that can't be it,” Jeff said, shaking his head. “She looked happy when we were in here a minute ago, it had to have happened recently.” 

“You didn’t say she was ugly or anything, did you?” Harry asked, sounding concerned. 

“No, nothing like that,” Michael muttered, trying to keep from unleashing his anger on them. Luna had reason to be mad, but he had never expected her to be…he was in no mood to entertain his friends’ desire for post-sex gossip.

“Well than what?” Jeff asked impatiently. “Wait,” he said in a hushed voice, “you didn’t say _she_ was bad at it, did you? She wasn’t, right?” 

“Shut up,” Michael snapped at him. “Just shut up for two seconds while I think.” 

“You say that a lot lately,” Jeff said, irritated at his friend’s behavior. “You used to be the last person to shut up and think about anything.” 

“Well everything’s changed hasn’t it?” Michael growled, finally losing his temper. “People are counting on me now! Luna’s counting on me!” 

“And yet she doesn’t know it, does she?” Jeff snapped back, also goaded too far. 

“What does that mean?” Michael asked dangerously, taking a step closer to Jeff, who remained where he was. ”What are you trying to say?”

“You’re doing to her what her dad and STRIKE did all those years! You won't tell her the truth, about that assassin, because you think you know what's best for her! You think you know more than her!” 

“Don’t you dare,” Michael whispered, as Harry and Ron watched in horror as the two friends, fellow STRIKE members, drew wands on each other. “Don’t you dare compare me to them. And don’t ever,” his fists were shaking now, “talk to me about looking after her! You think I haven’t noticed what you’ve been trying?” 

“What are you talking about?” Jeff asked, though he looked as if he knew exactly what Michael meant. 

“Trying to sneak a peek at her! I ignored it, because I thought you were messing around, being funny! ‘Accidently’ falling into the bathroom while she was in the shower, really? Then you come in here this morning, knowing perfectly well what we were doing!” 

“I was just playing with you…” Jeff said, turning red. “We always do that stuff. We mess with each other’s girlfriends all the time!” 

“Not her!” Michael shouted in his face. “Not Luna!” 

“Just because you two had sex doesn’t mean that –” Jeff began.

But no one ever found out what that meant, for at that minute Michael drew back his wandless left hand and punched Jeff square in the mouth. 

He stumbled backwards and fell to the ground, holding his bleeding face. He looked stunned and angry, but before he could say anything, Michael shoved past him, throwing Harry and Ron out of the way, and followed Luna out the door, calling her name loudly. 

He met Sarah and Hermione in the lobby. Both looked tired, and Sarah had that definite air of excessive alcohol. They seemed surprised to see him, at least this early. 

“Hey,” Sarah said, stretching and smiling, though something in her face voided her attempt at casualness. “How was last night?” 

“Have you seen Luna?” Michael asked quickly, ignoring her first question. 

“Yeah, we have,” Sarah told him, the smile falling from her face as she said it. “She said she was going to the beach…” she trailed off, glancing at Hermione to complete the sentence, as though she was afraid to. 

“And she said not to let you follow her,” Hermione said, frowning at him. “Why is she so angry with you?” 

“I don’t know,” Michael said impatiently, making to pass between the two girls, to leave the hotel and head straight for the beach, but found his way blocked. 

“We’ll let you go,” Hermione said firmly, “after you tell us what happened.” Both girls looked upset by their task, but determined. 

“I wouldn’t tell her why I'm going to London,” Michael admitted, deciding it would be best, and quicker, to simply tell the truth. Most of it. “She got angry and said that I don’t trust any of you, and that I never think of anybody but myself.” 

“But what makes her think that?” Hermione asked, looking confused for once in her life. “You almost wouldn’t let us come because you were worried about us, about her!” 

Good, now they were on his side. That would speed things up. “She told me that I wasn’t considering how worried she’d have been if I went alone…and that I look down on you all for not being real soldiers.” 

“But if you only told her what you had seen, she would know how much you care about her!” Sarah told him pleadingly. 

“You thought the painful truth was better than a comfortable lie once,” Hermione said softly, echoing Jeff. “Perhaps it’s the same now.” 

Michael considered her words. He had intended to simply say the things they wanted to hear and be on his way, to apologize and tell her how sorry he was that she couldn’t know. But his friends’ words struck a chord with him and he decided on a different course of action. 

“That’s what I'm doing then,” Michael said suddenly, causing the two girls to glare at him suspiciously. However, something in his eyes, his tone, must’ve told them he was being honest. They moved aside without a word, allowing him access to the beach, to a second chance with the girl he’d never stop loving.


	18. Chapter 18: Michael's Stories

Michael felt the early morning sun warm his face as he stepped out of the hotel, through the back door, and onto the boardwalk which granted entrance to the private beach reserved for guests at the Sixth Star. He supposed the day would have been beautiful, even more so given what he had experienced last night, but all the beauty of the day was eroded by Luna’s pained face screaming angry words at him. 

He found her sitting at the water’s edge, clutching her knees up to her chest, letting the salty water wash over her bare feet. He had no idea how to start, so he simply sat down in the wet sand next to her, staring out at the rising sun. 

When she became aware she was no longer alone, she turned to see who it was. Seeing it was Michael, she turned away hastily, trying to conceal the tears that had recently fallen. 

“Luna, I'm sorry,” Michael began, not finding the strength or courage to look at her, instead continuing to stare at the great burring orb rising above them. “I'm sorry I haven't been honest with you, and not just about the reason I have to leave.” 

She did not look at him, but sniffed, and he took her lack of an angry shout an invitation to continue. 

“I want to tell you a story, Luna,” he said heavily. His voice was full of sadness, yet somehow, strangely dull as he said it. He hadn't ever told this story to another living person. “Last night, you told me a story about China. I'm going to tell you one about Africa. This story is about the country of Tikar.”

“I've heard of it,” Luna said absently. “Daddy and I were going to visit last year to see the animals of the savannah, but decided against it. There was a civil war going on between their Wizards.”

“I know,” Michael said. “I was there. It was shortly after I became a Captain in STRIKE, after I found out about you and your mom. We knew Voldemort was backing the despotic king of Tikar, which was very interesting to us. What was he doing in Africa of all places?”

“It’s a very ancient, very magical land,” Luna replied, still not looking at him. “Some people believe magic originated there.”

“Exactly. STRIKE thought he was after some artifact, I don’t even remember what…it doesn’t matter now. Whatever he wanted there, they didn’t want him to get it. So they sent me, Jeff, and Sarah to country to ‘advise’ the rebels fighting the Death Eater backed government, overthrow the king, kill the bad guys, and come home.”

“But you didn’t?”

“No, we did,” Michael shook his head. “That was the easy part. See, you can’t just knock off a ruling regime and leave the country in ruins. Someone had to lead once the king was dead. STRIKE had decided that given my position on the ground, I should have full discretion in the area. So the way I saw it, I had two options. A brother and sister, Kiro and Kyra. They were both great revolutionaries, good fighters, leaders to their people. One of them would obviously become the new leader of Tikar after we had  won. As the fighting went on, the differences between them became obvious. Kiro was a good man, he treated captured enemies well, listened to his men’s concerns, and more than once stopped mid march to ensure a village’s safety, regardless of strategic value. Kyra was different…she was rough. She didn’t have her brother’s pleasant disposition. She never had to decide what to do with prisoners because she didn’t take any. She bypassed burning villages on the way to the capital, claiming that killing the king would do more to help them than any futile attempt to salvage some homes.

“So when the king was dead and the country was ready to turn over and I was ready to come home, it was clear they wanted me to decide who should have the authority in Tikar. I chose Kyra. She had been hard and cold during the war, I saw it first hand, but I told Jeff and Sarah – when they warned me against it – that she would be different in peace. I fought them both about it. I defended her.”

“What happened?”

“It was to be the last day I was in Tikar,” Michael sighed. “I went alone to see Kyra one more time, to give her all the worldly advice a seventeen year old could provide. I nearly threw up when I Apparated into her new, liberated, capital. I saw kids, Luna. Children too young to own a wand, clutching them, dressed in military uniforms. Those fucking uniforms scared me so much. Do you know why? They fit. They weren’t small sizes hastily thrown onto those children – they were made in kids’ sizes. Kyra…had been planning this. When I confronted her, she blamed me. She told me that if STRIKE was going to pull us out and leave Tikar in shambles, she couldn’t be blamed for what she had to do. She said she needed all the Witches and Wizards she could get to maintain peace. I left with my MD in hand, ready to call General Staffon, tell him what had happened. I never made that call.”

“You left her in charge?” Luna asked, shocked.

“No. If I had told Staffon, he would have sent a team to eliminate her eventually, when the chance presented itself.” Michael paused. “I assassinated Kyra Mumbar on July seventeenth, nineteen ninety-six. Her brother Kiro took power the next day, at her state funeral, after I told him of the Death Eater holdouts who had killed her the previous night before I could stop them. That’s what happens when you take a job you're not ready for, Luna. People like me kill you.”

“Michael,” Luna gasped. She finally turned towards him, new tears shining in her eyes. “Oh…I'm so sorry. But that woman didn’t die because she wasn’t ready, or because you pushed her into her job. She died because she was a monster. You know that, don’t you? She was what she was.” Luna reached out and put her hand on his. “You took an evil out of the world with that girl. You did a good thing.”

“An evil I was responsible for,” Michael muttered bitterly.

“You didn’t make her what she was,” Luna said quietly. “Don’t be arrogant – it doesn’t suit you. You didn’t turn her into such a horrible person, she was like that when you got there. You can’t influence everyone, decide their paths. She would never have been ready for that job because she could never have been ready. Your only failing was not seeing her for what she was. You're doing the same thing to me now, Michael.”

“Luna?”

“You didn’t see that woman for the monster she was. It’s all right, we all make mistakes. But you're making it again with me. You don’t see me for who I am. I suppose it’s understandable, you haven't known me since we were children, but I'm not a little girl anymore Michael. I'm a woman, a woman who wants very badly to be at your side, fighting, if that’s what it takes. I'm a good Witch, I've already fought in two battles of this war.” Luna smiled at Michael. “If you were with Hermione or Sarah or Ginny and you acted like this, they’d take it as an insult and a lack of faith in them. I know you only care too much. But I need you to care in other ways, all right? Rub my back, clean my wounds, give me a family to come back to, but give me my choice to fight. Please.”

“A family?” Michael asked, unable to hide his shock.

“A life,” Luna answered. “I want a life. Not to be protected, or hidden, or lied to. I want to live. I want to live with you.”

“I'm sorry Luna,” Michael said, hanging his head. “I don’t mean to be like this, but I just don’t really know how to handle this kind of happiness. I've lost a lot already. I just don’t want to lose anymore.”

“You won’t lose me,” Luna said, full of so much certainty that Michael had to give her his belief. “I won’t let them take me from you, or you from me. I simply won’t.”

“Luna,” Michael said, acting before he could stop himself, “a while back, the day we destroyed the Ring, Harry had one of his visions of Voldemort’s mind. I used Legilmency and joined him, and we saw Voldemort talking to that man who attacked us. They were talking about you.” 

“About me?” she asked, frowning. “What did they say?”

“It was that guy, the assassin. He was saying...things about you. He and Voldemort negotiated a new deal, and you’re his prize if he completes his mission.” 

“I'm his prize?” Luna repeated, looking shocked. “Michael, what are you talking about?” 

“His mission was just to get the Seven. He wanted to kill me for personal reasons. Now he’s out to kill all six of us, and get the Slytherin Seven as well. If he succeeds in that, Voldemort said that he could have you…that you would be his.” 

“That’s why you’re going away, isn’t it?” Luna asked quietly. “You’re going after him before he comes after us, aren’t you?” 

“No, Luna, I'm not,” he said, swiveling to look her in the face. “And that’s the truth. It does have to do with him; I think I might have figured something out about this guy…” 

“But what if he finds you without us?” Luna asked fearfully, dropping all pretenses. “What if he attacks you while you’re alone in London?” 

Michael took her hands in his, and she did not resist. “Luna, this guy would kill me to force you to love him, to force you to stop loving me. I’d kill him to give you the choice. I promise you that.” 

“You’ll come back for me?” 

“Always.” 

She smiled, but she still looked scared, so Michael said, ”Listen, I’ll only be gone a few days, at the most. I just have to do a little digging at the Ministry, maybe visit STRIKE headquarters, and then take a quick trip to the National Library.” 

“I haven't forgotten that,” she told him, lying back in the sand, seeming to relax. “But what are you digging for at the Ministry?” 

“Luna,” Michael said. He remained sitting, and was terrified at what he had to say next. “Please, please, understand. I can't tell anyone that. Either way, whether or not I'm right, you’ll all know in a few days.” 

Luna looked at him very intently for a moment. Then she looked him straight in the eyes and said, “That man who attacked us…he said you knew him.”

Michael frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. “He did?”

“Yes…he said you would sacrifice us to Voldemort in the end.” Michael's back straightened and stared at her, eyes wide. He was angry…but more alarmed than anything. “He said you had done it to him. And that Tonks agreed. Did he mean Nymphadora Tonks, the Auror? The one in Professor Dumbledore’s Order?”

Michael was paler than Luna as he continued to stare at her. “Oh my God…” he muttered, shaking his head. He buried his face in his hands. “Oh my God…he thinks it’s my fault.”

“Who?” Luna asked quickly. “The assassin? What's your fault?”

Michael didn’t look at her. “He…fucked up…and now he’s _with_ Voldemort? Dammit. This isn’t my fault!” he said suddenly to Luna, almost snapping at her. “I didn’t know….”

“Michael please…what is it? Who is he? What happened?”

“I have to be sure…” Michael said very quietly. “If that man is who I think he is, and he believes what he told you, he’s more dangerous than I could have thought. I promise you Luna, what he told you isn’t true.” He took her hands; he was unable to stop his own shaking. “He…he may believe I'm as bad as what he told you. But he’s…I promise I’ll explain very soon. I can't tell you about it yet, in case I'm wrong. But I think I know who he is….”

“I trust you,” Luna said slowly. She obviously didn’t like the secrecy, but could handle the mystery. “I love you and know you're good…I know you love me.”

“You're certainly right there,” Michael answered, finally smiling.

She stared at him for a long moment, and then she sighed. “I'm going to have to get used to this, aren’t I?” 

“Get used to what?” 

“You, gone. On dangerous missions, all alone. Not knowing whether or not you’re alive,” she counted out on her fingers. 

“Oh, that,” he said, chuckling, “Not for much longer.” 

“What are you saying?” she asked him, sitting upright again. 

“After this is all over,” he told her, glad he was finally telling someone his future plans, “after Voldemort's gone, and the Seven are destroyed, I'm done.” 

“Done?” she repeated. 

“Done fighting. Done with wars, with STRIKE, with everything…” he looked out at the sunrise, contemplating those bright future days. 

“But won't the world need Michael Jacobs?” Luna asked, though she too was imagining what could be in the future, their future. 

“Probably,” Michael shrugged. “But they’ll just have to find a new one. I have a feeling my wife’ll need me to help with any kids of mine, more than the world needs me to stop a madman, at least.” 

“So you want kids?” Luna asked, staring at him, realizing what he was saying. 

“Yeah I guess,” Michael said uncomfortably. “But I suppose only if my wife does…,” 

“Oh, I think she does too,” Luna said, nestling up against him. 

“That’s good,” Michael laughed, “I was worried when you said you’d have to get used to this. I thought you meant something else.” 

“What else could I have meant?” 

“Me being an idiot, and having to apologized,” he said, kissing her softly. “The deadly job, I can change. That, not so much.” 

“We’ll see,” she said, kissing him back. “Now then, what should we do?” 

“Well, I would say go have fun somewhere,” Michael said, grabbing his lower back and stretching, “But I'm still a little sore from last night…” he whispered, nibbling on her ear. 

“Me too,” she admitted. “We could just lie here,” she suggested. ]“I think that’s about all I'm up to at the moment, actually,” Michael said, and they both fell backwards into the grainy, warm sand. Luna sprawled out spread eagle, but Michael crossed one leg over the other, and rested the back of his head on his palms. 

“Could you do something for me, Michael?” Luna asked eventually. 

“Yeah, what?” 

“Could you  say something to Jeff?” she asked. ”He keeps walking in on me in the most convenient times…I’d think he was lost, or battling a Wackspurt, but I just don't think that's it.” 

“I already kicked his ass,” Michael growled in a low voice, trying to sound older and angry. 

“You did?” Luna asked interestedly, though not bothering to sit up. 

“Well, no,” Michael conceded. “He’s just having fun, we used to do things like that all the time. But I told him you’re off limits, and I don’t think he’ll mess with you anymore.” 

“That’s good,” Luna said, “He is very funny sometimes….” 

“Yeah, but I did hit him in the face,” Michael said, though this time he felt guilty, rather than triumphant. “I don’t even think he’s screwing with me, or that he even wants to see you naked, though.” 

“If not those two very good reasons, then why?” 

“He’s jealous,” Michael told her with a wink. 

“Jealous of us?” she asked, rolling over in the sand to kiss him. 

“Well, that too,” Michael said, his lips meeting hers, “But really, it’s just that frankly, your wolf form is ten times scarier than his.” 

Luna laughed again. “Earlier,” she said, her voice now finally fully returned to its usual dreamy tone, “I asked if you would still be gone on dangerous missions all alone. I know you said you would quit when the war was over –”

“And I will.”

“– but I think,” Luna went on, “that I don't want you to be alone during the war either. I want to go with you, wherever you are. I’d very much like us to fight this war together.”

The pair decided to leave the warmth and pleasantness of the Caribbean behind the next day. Michael and Luna returned to the hotel to make sure this was acceptable, and everyone agreed. Michael then pulled Jeff aside from the rest of the group, who had just left to hail a cab, to apologize for what he had done. Jeff waved him off however, saying that he had deserved it and how lucky Luna was. 

They spent their last day on the island surfing in the roaring waves of the Caribbean Sea. Well, Michael and Jeff surfed, the other five tried very hard to imitate them, but only Ron succeeded. Luna simply lay on her back, all four limbs dangling off her board, so that by the end of the day her skin was a similar color to Ron’s hair. After the exhausting day, they enjoyed their final night by the pool, no one swimming, simply wanting to relax. 

The next morning everyone awoke drowsily, and Michael laid out the plan for their return, so that Dumbledore, nor anyone else, would ever know they had left. 

“Basically the same way we got here,” Michael said, sipping coffee Luna had made out of a Styrofoam cup. “But no boat. The same guy who got us the wetsuits has three Portkeys waiting for us. The one he gives you will take you back to the bathroom, where the agents will be waiting,” he said to Harry, Ron, Hermione, Jeff, and Sarah. “Luna, yours will leave a few minutes after, so no one sees you. The one I'm taking is to London. 

“You guys just act like nothing happened,” he said to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, “and look really happy to see us. Not even Dumbledore should see this coming. I’ll join you in two days at the most, okay?” 

They nodded and set to packing their things. For some reason, Michael kept finding his clothes in the strangest places around the room. Under things, on top of the wardrobe, everywhere. He also noticed that every article of his clothing that he came across had a small red cherry buried within. 

“You’re an idiot,” he laughed, throwing one at Jeff, after discovering a pair of his jeans magically stuck to the bottom of his bed. Yesterday, this might have annoyed him, but now that he had been honest with Luna, and with Jeff, he was able to laugh about it again, like old times. 

The cab ride to the shop was a noisy one, as Michael and Jeff kept exclaiming loudly at the sight of things they wished they had done. They stopped and quieted at the words, “Children, please!” thinking that they had annoyed the driver, but quickly realized it was Sarah and burst out laughing, which did annoy the cabbie. 

They walked slowly into the shop, trying to catch a last few rays of warm sunlight. As they did, Hermione suddenly stopped, her foot in the threshold of the store, looking terrified. 

“He’ll know!” she whispered. “Dumbledore will know!” 

“What?” Ron said sharply, sounding alarmed. “How will he ever know what we’ve been doing? We’ve had doubles filling in for us!” 

“Look at us Ron!” she said, sounding close to hysterical. The thought of getting caught was apparently not something she wished to entertain at all. “We’ve gotten so tan over the last week, how will Professor Dumbledore not notice?” 

“Oh. Shit,” Michael said, also stopping. It was true, they were all noticeably more bronze, even Luna, whose skin tone was now nearly identical to a person who spent adequate amounts of time outside. “Well, he can't pay attention to everything. Right?” he added, looking around at all of them. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Luna all shook their heads sadly. “Well, we’ll just have to play it by ear then,” he said, shrugging and continuing into the shop, striding up to the counter. The same man from before stood there, looking excited to see them back in his store. 

“Well, now, look who it is!” he yelled loudly as soon as Michael stepped up to the counter. “Got what ya needed done, done, I hope!” 

“Yes, we did,” Michael said distractedly. “Thank you for the suits, they helped a lot.” 

“Knew they would!” he said, wringing Michael's hand happily. “Knew you would get the job done, ‘course no one would say different!” 

“Yes, thank you,” he said, amused and annoyed by his new fan. “But do you have a few Portkeys for us?” 

“Yes sir-e, yes I do!” the man said, looking around for them. “Just had em right here! I don’t know where they could have gotten to…” 

“They leave in just about a minute,” Sarah said nervously, “we need them now.”

“Don’t worry missy,” he said, bending down and rummaging under the counter, “I was STRIKE, you know. I always deliver!” he finished, and Michael couldn’t help but be reminded of the assassin telling them he never failed. 

“Here we go, three keys, just for you,” he said, holding out a deflated beach ball, a woman’s bikini top, and a pair of swimming goggles. “This one’s yours,” he said to Michael, passing him the goggles, “and this one’s for you kids!” He handed Jeff the ball. “And this would be yours?” he added, handing Luna the top. She smiled pleasantly and looked at it. Michael couldn’t help but laugh as she held it close to her chest, evidently trying to decide if she wanted to keep it. “I don’t know where they go, but good luck with whatever you’re doing there.” 

“Thanks Frank,” Michael said, before turning back to his friends. None of them looked happy about this parting, as if they all sensed something wrong. “I’ll see you in a few days, at the most, okay?’ he told them, as the three objects began to vibrate. “Stay out of trouble, or at least leave some for me when I get back. And I love you,” he added to Luna, though it was more meaningful than what he attached it to. They stepped forwards and kissed briefly, to whoops and cheers from the man named Frank. They moved quickly apart as they were thrown different directions, pulled away by the Portkeys they were clutching. 

Sarah grabbed on to Jeff and they landed heavily on the stone floor of a Hogwarts bathroom. They tried to untangle themselves from the pile they landed in, and a voice above them said, “Need a hand?” 

Harry Potter was standing over her, holding out a hand. But turning to her left, Harry Potter was also lying on top of Ron, who was also leaning against a wall, sneering down at them. Hermione Granger was stumbling to her feet, staring with slight surprise at Hermione Granger, who was leaning next to Ron, their hands intertwined. 

“Thanks a lot, you guys,” Sarah said, though she frowned at Ron and Hermione’s doubles. “We miss anything important?” 

“Not really,” said the fake Harry. “Though you two might be getting some looks,” he told the real Ron and Hermione, with a glance at the two STRIKE agents. 

“What are you talking about?” Jeff asked ominously. 

“No time to explain,” Jace said, still wearing Ron’s face, his hand finding its way to the fake Hermione's butt. She giggled playfully, in a way the real Hermione would never. “Got to go, little brother. Man’s work to be done. Maybe one day you’ll understand.” 

“Jace, shut up,” Kevin snapped at him, while his other partner continued to laugh. “You too, Cecilia. Listen, we do have to go. Good luck to you,” he said, shaking hands with Jeff and Sarah again. 

He pulled out a small golden coin and the other two copied him. They began to vibrate and shake, and Jeff knew they were Portkeys. 

“Tell Michael he owes us when you see him!” Kevin called as they vanished. The five teens stood in the small boys’ bathroom, waiting for Luna.

“What do you think that guy was talking about?” Ron asked nervously. “About me and Hermione getting looks?” 

“Didn’t he call that girl pretending to be Hermione Cecilia?” Jeff asked Sarah. 

“Yeah, that was her,” she said with a sigh. “God, I hate her. Seems like none of the men do,” she added, rolling her eyes at Jeff. 

“What? I can’t stand Cecilia! She and Jace are perfect for each other. They could have entire dates just telling each other they're the best at everything and no one could ever hope to be as good looking, smart, or charming,” Jeff muttered. “You guys might have to think fast,” he told Ron and Hermione, “they might have been engaged in some…extracurricular activities.” 

“And if that was Cecilia,” Sarah said, smirking a little at Jeff, looking pleased, “you can bet that people not only heard about it, but probably saw it too.” 

“You know, I have no idea why Michael makes Kevin stay with them,” Jeff said, shaking his head. “He’s in charge of the damn branch, why not shuffle him in with someone decent?”

“Because he doesn’t trust your brother.” 

All heads turned momentarily behind them as Luna spun into existence, landing as gracefully as possible given her method of transport. She inspected the top one more time, smiled, and stuffed it down her shirt.

“Michael told me he keeps your friend Kevin with them to keep Jace and that woman in line.” Jeff frowned.

“So what do we do?” Hermione asked angrily. “If those two have been parading around as Ron and I, doing all sorts of things….” 

“I don’t know,” Jeff said, still irritated from his encounter with his older brother, “just accept it and stop pretending you can't stand each other?” 

Harry and Sarah laughed, but neither Ron nor Hermione found any humor in the situation. “Come on Hermione, let’s go see what they’ve left us with,” Ron said, gesturing the others out the door. 

“You guys need to get to class,” Jeff said, checking his watch, “I’ll take your stuff to the dorms,” he told Harry and Ron. “And Sarah, can you get Hermione and Luna’s?” She nodded and they vanished the large amounts of luggage, following Ron out of the bathroom. 

“Does anyone remember what class we have right now?” Harry asked the group, coming to a stop in front of the doors leading to the Great Hall. 

“I have Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Luna said, “At least I think I do…unless Professor Dumbledore finally decided to switch in Conjurology on Tuesdays like I suggested. ” 

“It’s Thursday, Luna,” Harry said, keeping his voice level.

“We have Transfiguration,” Hermione said promptly. “And it starts in two minutes, we’d better hurry.” They entered the Hall and Jeff and Sarah parted ways with the rest of the group, Luna having told Sarah about the riddle to get into the Ravenclaw common room. Luna was just about to break away from Harry, Ron, and Hermione, as they needed to go different directions, when they were met by none other than Albus Dumbledore. 

“Ah, Miss Lovegood,” he said in his deep voice. “You’re back I see. Aren't Michael and his friends with you?” 

“No, Professor,” said Luna, totally at ease. “Jeff and Sarah went to put our things back up in the dormitories, and Michael has other things to do. He went to London.” 

“I see…” his eyes moved over Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s nervous faces. “When can we expect him back? I would like a word with him.” 

“A few days, I think,” she told him with a nod. She met the Headmaster’s eyes while the other three determinedly avoided it. “What do you want to talk to him about?”

“That is between he and I,” Dumbledore said, unusually shortly. “Although I am sure he shall tell you as soon as the opportunity arises. Well then, good day to you all,” Dumbledore said suddenly, and he turned around and walked the other direction, vanishing into a classroom off to the side of the hallway. 

“Well…that was bloody scary,” Ron muttered.

“Professor Dumbledore is a very nice man,” Luna said mildly. “He does his best not to intimidate his students, but we all slip sometimes.”

 “He can intimidate whoever he wants, as long as he doesn’t find out we were gone.” 

“Gone where, Mr. Weasley?” asked a voice behind them. They spun around at the same time, to find Albus Dumbledore standing behind them, smiling slightly. Harry, Ron, and Hermione gasped in unison.

“I didn’t know you had a twin brother, Professor,” Luna said conversationally. “It would explain how you get so much done, I suppose.” 

“Polyjuice Potion is not the only way to alter ones appearance,” he told them. “Thank you very much Nymphadora,” he added to someone behind them. They turned again, once again finding Albus Dumbledore standing behind them, arms crossed. 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all white as ghosts. It was every trouble maker’s worst nightmare, to be caught and surrounded by two Dumbledores. After a moment the first Dumbledore’s face began to change, the nose shortening, the wrinkles disappearing, the hair changing to a vivid pink…the expression remained nearly the same however. Neither Dumbledore nor Tonks looked particularly happy with them.

“I would like to know what Michael Jacobs is doing,” Dumbledore said seriously, plainly addressing Luna.

“I'm not sure sir,” Luna said earnestly. “And I'm not sure I could tell you even if I did know. Michael is very important to me, I wouldn’t like to violate his trust.”

“It is one of many noble traits you possess Miss Lovegood,” Dumbledore said, watching her closely. “Perhaps you should endeavor to pass it along to your new friend.”

“Sir?” Harry asked, stepping forward a bit.

“Michael Jacobs is a good man,” Dumbledore said, looking at each of them, including the silent Tonks, in turn. “I do not wish to make any of you think otherwise. But he is at a very important crossroad in his life, and must choose which path to take – that of a boy, or a man. He impresses with power and leadership, yet follows the show by picking a fight with Severus and smuggling my students out of my school. I place equal care on all my students, yet all of you understand exactly how important Harry is to the movement against Voldemort.”

“Professor I –”

“Could very easily have been killed while away from the protections of Hogwarts,” Dumbledore cut through him, his voice suddenly defining power itself. “Mr. Jacobs is aware of your connection to Lord Voldemort, is he not? Then I must ask why he thought it the least bit reasonable to ferry you off to combat.”

“Because we asked him to,” Harry replied, obviously the only one who felt comfortable enough to speak plainly with the headmaster. Dumbledore’s eyebrows raised behind his spectacles. “He didn’t want any of us to go. We made him take us. He said we weren’t ready, and I fought him about it – I nearly dueled him over it.”

Dumbledore paused.

“Who turned out to be right?”

“I…don’t know,” Harry answered truthfully. “We fought a Wizard with dueling skills I’d never seen before and he took down me, Ron, Hermione, Jeff, and Sarah…but only after we protected Michael from him.”

“A Death Eater?” Dumbledore asked sharply.

“I don’t think so,” Harry answered, shaking his head. “I saw him interact with Voldemort. He didn’t act like a Death Eater. They’re Voldemort’s servants, aren’t they? Well, he didn’t act or look anything like a servant.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said slowly, evidently deep in thought.

“Michael may have more information about him for you when he comes back,” Luna piped up.

“I see,” Dumbledore said. He sighed, every line in his face becoming more noticeable as he did so. “It seems there are many things I need to be brought up to speed on, but I shall wait for Michael to return to hear them. It is not my place to question students on matters of military significance in war, nor do I have any desire to provoke the wrath of Mr. Weasley’s mother, who already believes I involve her children too deeply in this. For now, I will leave you four to return to your regularly scheduled activities for the day. I shall also expect you in my office at ten o clock to begin your week of detention.”

They all nodded sadly, though were relived nothing worse had happened. Dumbledore gave them a very small smile, chuckled and turned away from them, walking at a brisk pace before casually disappearing into a passageway hidden behind a tapestry of Trollslayer Brutus. Tonks sighed loudly.

“Sorry about that,” she said, shaking her head. “I didn’t want to, but when Dumbledore tells you to do something, you do it. Well…unless you're you four I suppose,” she added with a smirk. Hermione frowned at her.

“Tonks,” she said, “did you know Michael Jacobs when he was an Auror?”

Tonks’ smirk dropped instantly.

“Yeah, I did,” she said, giving a small shrug. “He was sort of a big deal when he first came over, being so young, and an import to boot. Half the office was thrilled to see the Americans sending some support, the other half thought they were just mocking us by sending…a kid.” Tonks bit her lip. “So he's with you lot now?”

“He's with me,” Luna answered, before anyone else could speak.

Tonks smirked. “Ahh…well –?”

“Luna.”

“Well, Luna, I knew Michael well once,” Tonks said, shaking her head. “Do you like wild rides?”

“I like adventures.”

“Then you two will be great together,” Tonks chuckled. “Good luck. To the rest of you…sorry again. I’d love to stay and talk – it sounds like you have a few new stories for me – but Order business, you know.” They muttered goodbyes and she headed off down the corridor ahead of them, pausing after a few slow steps. “Oh and,” she said, glancing over her shoulder, “tell Michael I'm finally over it, okay?”

“Over what?” Hermione asked.

Tonks turned back around. “He’ll know.”

“So…” Ron said, watching her go, “that was strange. What do you think she meant?”

“If it were something important, I’d know,” Luna said mildly. She smiled vaguely at them all. “No more secrets between us.”

“Well, that’s good Luna,” Hermione said distractedly, reaching out and grabbing Ron’s hand. He looked momentarily surprised and pleased before she wrenched it around towards her so she could read his watch. “But we’re about to be very late for class, and I don’t think testing Professor Dumbledore is a very good idea right now!”

“It never is,” Luna said simply. “We should go to class. Can I come visit you in Gryffindor tower tonight?”

“Anytime Luna,” Harry said seriously, making her smile widely at him. Waving brightly, Luna turned without another word and skipped off towards the dungeons. 

Two days passed, then a third and yet Michael still had not returned to the safety of Hogwarts. Luna spent the majority of her time with the five Gryffindors, a little quieter than usual but otherwise her pleasant self. Luna didn’t think they noticed – it was only around her childhood friend she made the transformation into anything nearing an extrovert.

Then finally, after lessons on the fourth day since their return from St. Lucia, Michael stumbled into the Gryffindor common room, where the group was spread out, lounging alone except for each other. Ron and Jeff looked up from their card game, Harry and Ginny moved a little further down the sofa apart from each other, Hermione set down her book, Ron turned off the wireless, and Luna opened her eyes.

He smiled at the sight of them, but had a broken, haunted look in his eye. It was as if he had seen the ghost of an old friend, but had been terrified by it, rather than comforted. All his friends stood up to greet him enthusiastically, moving in a cluster over to him. All except Luna, who remained seated and facing him, staring into his eyes, her own probing them.

“Michael!” Sarah said happily, hugging him. “Where have you been? We were worried about you, it’s been four days!” 

“I had… stuff to do,” Michael said, shrugging and falling into one of the chairs the others had just vacated. “It took longer than I expected, but now I know, at least.” 

“Know what?” Luna asked. She still had not gotten up to greet him, but remained in her chair, leaning slightly forward towards him. 

“I know why that man wants you so bad,” he said darkly. “Why he is working with Voldemort…everything.” 

“Is it him Michael?” Jeff asked quietly. Michael ignored him. 

“It’s personal against me. He blames me for everything…He wants you to get revenge, Luna. He wants you to hurt me.” Michael turned to look at Jeff, pain showing on his scarred face. It was a moment before he spoke, and each word seemed to tear at him. 

“You remember Owen Stetnas?” Michael asked them. Luna put on a contemplative look. Jeff and Sarah, however, nodded solemnly. “My ex-partner while I was with the Aurors,” Michael clarified hoarsely, for the benefit of the others.. 

“Harry frowned.  “The one Voldemort killed?” 

Michael looked up at him, twisted by pain and regret. 

“He’s not as dead as I thought.” 

“What?” Hermione and Ron said at the same time. 

“He wasn’t dead. Voldemort fired a curse, but it wasn't fatal. He survived the encounter, but believes I left him. And the Ministry knows.” 

“What are you talking about?” Hermione asked. “Are you saying your friend is the mercenary that’s been after us?” 

“Yes. He lived through the attack, but thinks that I abandoned him. He never returned to the Aurors, and instead became...well I don't know what he became. I mean, he works for Galleons and all, but he’s not a mercenary. He’s doesn’t kill for money. He’s not right…he was always a little unbalanced, odd, different. But now he’s lost his mind…probably Bellatrix’s doing. And he is currently in the employ of Lord Voldemort.” 

“But that makes no sense,” Harry said slowly, trying to put everything together, “If Voldemort tried to kill him, why would he work for him, against a former ally?” 

“He believes that Voldemort was only doing his job. He says that the Aurors left him for dead, but Voldemort at least made no secret of wanting to kill him. He apparently decided if everyone wants him dead, he may as well team up with the side that has no problem with him killing and torturing and pillaging. The Ministry knows he’s still alive, STRIKE didn’t until I told them. That unsettled me, but the Ministry only knows because he’s been picking off Aurors and leaving…clues.”

“Clues?” Ginny asked, already white. Harry returned to his position close to her.

“A letter carved into the arm of each one,” Michael spat. “Seven of them. S-t-e-t-n-a-s.”

“And they didn’t tell you because you left them for STRIKE, who they distrust,” Hermione said slowly. Michael nodded.

“I had to ask a favor from one of the only friends I have left in the Aurors. He didn’t even know – the Aurors hushed it up, I think only top level Witches and Wizards know.”

“Was it the attack that made him like this?” Harry asked. “Or was he always a madman?” Michael stayed silent for a moment, biting the inside of his lip.

“I think there may be something between him and Lestrange. I don't know for sure…but I had suspicions when we worked together. But then, I think he might just _want_ to be evil.”

He reached into his pocket and dug out a folded piece of paper. “This is a summary of what the Ministry has on him. Here.” He handed it to Sarah, who was closest. She read it quickly, Hermione over her shoulder, before passing it around the group. Harry tried to turn himself so Ginny could not see, but she snatched it from his hands and scanned it quickly.

“Michael he sounds like…” 

“A psychopath,” Michael said bitterly. “Sociopath?” he added, looking at Hermione. “I don't know. The point is, he's far more dangerous than I thought. He was just as good as me when we worked together in the Aurors, only difference is he has less moral issues with things like torture and murder. When I first suspected him, I worried because of his nature and his mind. I assumed I could take him in a one on one fight, if the chance arose. Now…I'm worried that might not be the case.”

“Then,” Luna said softly, “it’s good you're not alone.”

“So can you fight him?” Hermione asked quietly. “Can you fight him again, even if he was your friend?” 

“We weren’t friends,” Michael said harshly. “We…we worked together. I don’t just say that because of what he is now. We were never friends…but I don't think he ever understood that. But anyway…I made you a promise on that beach, Luna. Nothing’s going to change that.” 

She smiled a little sadly. The others shared mixed expressions of pity and disgust and in Ginny’s case, fear. Michael couldn’t help but feel bad for her. He knew Harry was trying to keep her as far from all this as possible, he had probably just undone a lot of that with this unpleasant revelation. 

“I did go to the National Library,” Michael said after a while, regaining a bit of his usual confidence and excitement. “And I did some research on Memory Repair.” 

“What did you find?” Luna asked immediately.

“That you were right, of course,” Michael said, and as he chuckled it was obvious he hadn’t done so in days. “Everything I read pretty much backed up what you had said. We have to start from scratch. Honestly, I wasn’t thrilled when I found out at first.”

“But now?”

“Now, I have a good feeling about this,” Michael told Luna. “Between the two of us, I think we have all the information and theory we need. Now we just need to take a little trip to make use of it.”

“Another vacation?” Sarah asked. “Surely they haven't already found another one of the Seven? Not this soon?” 

“No, this has nothing to do with STRIKE,” Michael said. “In fact the less they know about it, the better. The thing is, the spell that is required to restore memories as damaged as yours is extremely difficult, and frankly, I'm not sure if I can do it. Not just on my own power. So we’re taking a little day – actually night – trip to Stonehenge.” 

“Stonehenge?” Hermione repeated. “Why are we going there?” 

“Magical energy,” Michael explained, “and lots of it. There are plenty of Muggle tourist spots that are really Magical hotspots. Easter Island, Wolf Lake, the Pyramids of Egypt…the list goes on, but Stonehenge is the closest. If we go there, and I soak up enough of the excess energy, I think I’ll be able to perform the spell and set you right, Luna.” 

“Are just you two going then?” Harry asked.

“No,” Luna said unexpectedly. “No, I want you to go. I want you all to be there when I find myself again.” She turned to Michael. “Would that be all right? You don’t mind do you?” 

“Not at all,” Michael said, grinning at her loyalty and love for her friends, “I was actually going to ask them to come. Now that I know who’s after us, and what he’s capable of, I think it would be a good idea for everyone to come and take in some of the Magical power floating around in the air.” 

“But we’re already in trouble,” Ron pointed out. “I doubt Dumbledore’ll just let us go off to Wiltshire on a whim.” 

“Why shouldn’t he?” Michael asked with a shrug. “It’s not dangerous, and it’s only for a day. A Saturday, too.” 

“It’s still the school year in here,” Hermione pointed out. “He has every right to keep us here.” 

“And it’s still war out there,” Michael responded, gesturing out the window. “You have every right to do what will keep you safe. And I think powering up at Stonehenge will help keep you safe. Dumbledore has to understand that.” Harry frowned and Ginny gave him a concerned look. Harry shook his head and sat down, staring at the ground, thinking.

“And I want to keep _you_ safe,” Luna said happily. “We’ll all go, and we’ll all get stronger.”

“Luna,” Michael said abruptly, “I'm really glad you're my girlfriend. I'm sorry I wasn’t honest with you earlier.” He waited for her to say something, but she merely took his hands in hers. Bolstered, he went on. “And you’re my friends. And regardless of what Owen Stetnas thinks, I take care of my friends….” 

“So you’ll convince Dumbledore?” Jeff asked. “I don’t think we’ll be able to get away with Polyjuice Potion again.” 

“Again?” Ron asked, eyebrows reside. “We got caught!” 

“Did you ever expect not to?” Michael asked incredulously. “Ron, that was only supposed to work until we got out! This is Albus Dumbledore we’re talking about, you can't expect to fool him for long! Even my STRIKE training is minimal in comparison to him.”  

“So we’ll go tomorrow?” Luna asked, only wishing to hear more about the day she would regain her past. 

“Yeah, but late” Michael said. “We’ll have to be in close proximity to the stones, so we’ll go at night, after most of the Muggle tourists have left.” 

“So you really think you’ll be able to convince Dumbledore to let us go?” Ron asked hopefully. “All of us?”

This seemed to reignite Michael completely. When he spoke, he sounded exactly like his old, happy self that Luna had fallen in love with on the beaches of St. Lucia. 

“You seem to be forgetting, Ron,” he said, and for good measure he stopped and kissed Luna quickly in the middle of his sentence, “that he may be Albus Dumbledore, but I'm still Michael Jacobs.”

“The way Harry tells it, Dumbledore’s tired of your shit,” Jeff laughed. “Good luck.”

Michael rubbed the back of his neck. “I did kind of drag his favorite students into a battle with lizard men and my deranged ex-partner. Sorry about that,” he added to Ginny, who gave him a single nod.

“Michael,” Luna said, “was your contact in the Aurors a woman named Tonks?” Michael nearly choked, staring at Luna. “We met her the day we came back, she said she knew you when you worked for them. Harry told me she’s,” Luna glanced around, “part of Professor Dumbledore’s order.”

“You all saw Tonks?” Michael asked, massaging the front of his throat, where it felt as though something was stuck. “Damn, erm, no, she wasn’t who I asked to find my information…probably could’ve used her though. I haven't seen her in, well, a while. She say anything about me?”

“She said I’d have my hands full with you,” Luna informed him dreamily. Michael laughed. “She also asked me to tell you that she’s finally over it.”

“Over it?” Michael repeated, honestly baffled. He racked his brains trying to figure out what Tonks could have been referring to…then, it hit him. All he could do was grin. “Ohhhh,” he groaned, “I know what she’s talking about.”

“Well, out with it then,” Ron urged, also amused. “What did you do to piss off Tonks?”

Michael sighed. “Well, back when I was one of Scrimgeour’s toys, Tonks and I were assigned to a pretty dangerous mission. Tonks got the job for reasons that will soon be obvious, and I think I got put on it before Scrimgeour wanted to kill me. Or whatever. Anyway, we were supposed to track down and arrest a pretty big time criminal, a woman called Elmine. Nothing?” he asked, looking around at his friends, who shook their heads. He chuckled. “Nah, you probably wouldn’t know her real name, we only found it out after we arrested her. She was better known as the Shifting Queen.”

“I remember that,” Ron said in a snap of remembrance. “She was a thief, wasn’t she? Kept robbing vaults at Gringotts? Fred had a thing for her…should start mentioning that again.”

“Yeah, that was her,” Michael nodded. “She had the perfect skillset for a thief – she was both a Metamorphmagus and a master Legilmens. She’d break into people’s homes, Stun them, tie them up, whatever, jump into their minds for any relevant information on their vault, then transform into them, stroll into the bank, and have her way with their money, jewels, whatever she wanted. She was a good Witch, obviously, so they decided Aurors were necessary to handle it. They also figured the best way to fight a Metamorphmagus was with another one…which sort of led to the unfortunate situation Tonks and I encountered.”

“What did you do?” Sarah asked, looking thrilled to hear a horrible story about him she had not already heard.

“Well,” Michael rubbed the back of his neck, “we tricked her, led her to believe she was about to pull off the heist of the century, then laid a trap in her vault, me and Tonks. But as soon as she entered, I guess she realized she had been had and threw a handful of some kind of black powder at us. I expected her to run like a thief, but she didn’t, and it wasn’t until later I finally realized why – she had dropped her transformation once she was past the Goblins. We had seen her real face, which, you can tell Fred, wasn’t as pretty as the ones she used when posing for all the photo ops.”

“So she attacked you?” Luna said, widening her eyes.

“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “She went for Tonks first, tussled with her in the dark for a bit. I didn’t want to hit Tonks and my _Lumos_ wasn’t working” – Ron and Ginny suddenly looked very nervous – “so I just had to wait and keep up my guard. Anyway, when the blackness finally cleared…I was staring at two Tonks pointing wands at each other.”

“I see where this is going,” Jeff laughed. “But why didn’t she just prove who she was by saying something only you would know? Ah, right,” he added, laughing even harder, “Legilimency. She could pull out enough random information from Tonks’ mind to confuse you, huh? So what’d you do, Stun the wrong one?”

“No,” Michael said defensively. Luna raised her eyebrows. “I Stunned them both…and in my defense, I got the right one first!”

“So you cursed her for no reason?” Ginny demanded.

“Stunning isn't a curse!” Michael retorted.

“You couldn’t tell your own friend from a thief!” Sarah said, shaking her head, but smirking.

“They had the same insane morphing powers!” Michael fought back.

“You worked with her for months, you couldn’t just _tell_?” Harry prodded. Michael glared at him – they were ganging up on him.

“She was in her mind too!” Michael muttered furiously. “She knew my birthday!”

“Michael, _I_ don’t know your birthday,” Jeff snorted.

“I think you’d be able to tell, if it were me, even if someone used Legilimency,” Luna said thoughtfully.

“I don’t think anyone could quite imitate you, Luna,” Hermione agreed. Luna nodded wisely at her.“But Michael still should’ve known!”

At that final indictment, Michael threw up his hands in surrender, allowing the other this victory. But as they continued to make fun of him, Michael had never been so happy to be arguing with his friends.


	19. Chapter 19: Mending the Broken

Luna left the Gryffindor common room shortly after their meeting. She would have liked to talk to Michael, but took note of his condition and decided that leaving him to rest was a better idea. Luna fully intended to curl up in a most romantic way with him for the majority of the next day, but worried he needed his bed to himself tonight.  
  
Luna liked the castle at night. As much as she enjoyed spending so much time with her friends, she sometimes missed the hours she would pass wandering the halls alone after dark, her thoughts all to herself. More than once she had witnessed Harry, Ron, and occasionally Hermione venture out for some clandestine activity long after the staff had retired to their beds, but she had never thought to make herself known to them. A simple Disillusionment Charm was usually all it took to escape their notice.  
  
She didn’t expect to meet anyone on her way back to the Ravenclaw tower, as it was long curfew. It came as a surprise then when she passed though the Great Hall and was about to begin up the steps back to her House’s tower and heard a drawling voice call her last name.   
  
She turned around, and was met by Draco Malfoy. He was, as always, flanked by his minions Crabbe and Goyle. Both looked down at her menacingly, trying got intimidate her.   
  
They were quite unsuccessful.   
  
“Do you need something, Draco?” she asked casually, her hand’s spidering up her leg, from her knee to her hip. She liked the way that felt.  
  
“Well,” he sneered, “word around school is that you and Jacobs are seeing a lot of each other.”   
  
“We are,” Luna confirmed. “But how exactly does that matter to you?” she asked, noting Crabbe and Goyle’s large presence.   
  
“He’s a bad influence on you, Lovegood” Malfoy said, moving a step nearer to her. He was offensively close, but still she did not draw her wand, although her left hand had stopped moving.  
  
“I don't think you really care,” she said frankly. She gave him a small shrug and a sad smile “But I really do think Michael cares more about my well being than you do, so if you'll excuse me, I really have to get up to the common room. I'm very tired.”   
  
She made to pass in between Crabbe and Goyle, but Malfoy grabbed her arm tightly, right below the shoulder. With a whirl of blonde, Luna spun him around and in a space of a second, her wand was up under his chin, digging into his throat enough to lift his head so that he had to move his eyes down as far as possible to look at her. Luna moved in closer, disregarding Malfoy’s minions.  
  
“I know what you are, you awful boy. I’ve  _seen_ enough of who you are. Please don’t ever touch me,” she breathed into his ear. “ _Ever_.”   
  
She released him, and he stumbled back into Goyle’s arms, his face red and furious.   
  
“You think you’re worth something now, Lovegood?” he spat at her. “You think anyone cares about you now, just because your new friends are bloody menaces? That couple that parades around here like they're above this damn place? And Jacobs,” his snarl turned to a arrogant sneer, “he probably only puts up with you because you –”  
  
“Because she what?” asked a voice which controlled the anger beneath it, but barely.   
  
Michael Jacobs and Harry Potter were striding down the corridor, glaring at the three Slytherins with the greatest dislike imaginable.   
  
“Because she’s pretty, smart, or funny?” Michael continued. “A ridiculously talented Witch? Makes shoestrings interesting? Points out the beauty in things I’d never think to look twice at? Makes the world a better place simply by being in it? Politely puts up with worthless garbage like you? Take your pick, you can't really go wrong.”   
  
Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy all backed away a few paces, retreating down the stairs. None were sneering or smirking anymore. Michael and Harry carelessly moved past them to join Luna a few steps up. All three Slytherins shared looks of anger and a bit of fear. Malfoy recovered first, trying to salvage the situation.   
  
“What are you doing here Jacobs?” he asked loudly, attempting to hide the crack in his usually low voice.   
  
“None of your concern,  _Draco_ ,” Michael snarled. “See, we use fist names. It’s called manners.”   
  
“Don’t want to tell me?” Draco mocked. “Are you maybe out for a late night shag with Lovegood?” Draco jeered, encouraged by the dumb laughter of Crabbe and Goyle. “Tell me, Jacobs,” he dropped his voice. “Is she any good in bed? I mean with a name like Lovegood, you’d think she’d have to at least be tolerable….”   
  
Luna backed away from the Slytherins, looking at them, frowning. “Is that really the best insult you Draco?” she asked, sounding almost a little disappointed. She put an arm around Michael’s waist, and he around hers.   
  
“I’m going to punch him,” Michael muttered, so only Luna could hear him. “Not curse him, punch him. Really hard. In the face.”  
  
“Well, that settles it,” Harry said finally, turning to Michael and Luna. “Do you care which one you get?” he asked, drawing his wand and taking aim into the middle of the group.   
  
“Would you mind if I fought Malfoy?” Luna whispered to Michael, who nodded.   
  
“I’ll take the ugly one. The ugly one on the left,” Michael clarified, indicating Goyle.   
  
The six stood still for a moment, all wands now drawn. The three Slytherins trying to intimidate the two Gryffindors and Ravenclaw, Malfoy attempting to appear unconcerned, Crabbe and Goyle flexing their muscles.   
  
“Sorry boys,” Michael laughed softly, “but there’s no way your scaring anyone out of this fight. You’d better be ready.”   
  
Malfoy’s reply was a furious yellow jet shot at Luna, whose counter argument was a flash of white light, which left Malfoy on the ground and unconscious, but ten feet away. Within seconds, Crabbe and Goyle were taken to the ground too, both with the assurance that they wouldn’t be waking up for a while.   
  
Harry walked over to Malfoy's cataleptic form, bending down and searching for his Hawthorn wand. Luna brushed a lock of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear.  
  
“Hmm...” she said simply, looking at Michael.  
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“I notice you don’t ask if I'm all right,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “I suppose I should take it as a vote of confidence, but I'm surprised you weren't worried about what might have happened before you joined us.”   
  
“If I was, none of these three would be breathing right now,” Michael responded menacingly. “I know you too well to think that they could be a danger to you.”   
  
“You're very  right,” she said happily. She smiled. “It’s nice to have a partner, instead of a protector. But I am glad you decided to show up when you did. You don’t know how happy you made me seeing the looks on their faces when you two jumped out of the shadows at them.”   
  
“Actually,” Michael whispered, “if you think back to about a week ago, on a certain night in a certain hotel room, you’ll have a good idea of how happy you can make me….” Luna said nothing, she merely reached out and placed her hand on his arm. Michael wondered how Luna’s touch always felt so light, as if she was barely there.  
  
“Brilliant,” Harry was saying, having located Malfoy's wand. “Luna, we were on our way to see Dumbledore, but if you’re not tired…?”   
  
“Yes?”   
  
“Well,” Harry looked a little guilty, but shook his head. “Malfoy’s given us both a lot of trouble over the years…why don't we pay him back?”  
  
“Cruciatus Curse?” Michael suggested idly.   
  
“I was thinking we do something with his wand,” Harry replied. Michael thought he saw a look of temptation in his eye for a second, though.  
  
“Well, what do you think, milady?” Michael asked, with a fake cutesy. “Shall we join our young friend on his quest to defile the wand of the court jester?”   
  
“You do know what a girl likes on a date,” Luna said, smiling and taking his arm in hers. “Lead on, sir Potter.”   
  
The three friends spent the next thirty minutes sneaking around the castle, dropping Draco’s wand in toilets, taking turns performing embarrassing spells with it in case he used Priori Incantatem, and other generally demeaning things. Michael chewed on it a little before throwing it to the ground in a fit, crudely cleaning his tongue on his sleeve, oblivious to Luna’s gaze.  
  
“What the hell has he been doing with this thing?” Michael demanded indignantly, his tongue still sticking out.  
  
“Dark magic,” Harry responded very seriously.  
  
After they were finished, Michael led the other two back to where the Slytherins had ambushed Luna, twirling Draco’s wand in his fingers.   
  
“You really gave it to Malfoy,” Harry was saying to Luna. “Then again, I guess after a vacation like ours, you did need some way to unwind….”   
  
“Thank you,” she said with a shrug. “But they were really no problem, it was only three boys against one of me…it doesn’t really reflect well on them that they lost, does it? I hope they don't take it too hard....” Harry laughed.  
  
“I suppose it is a bit hard to take Malfoy seriously after what we’ve been through lately,” he agreed.  
  
“If any of them had touched you…” Michael growled, still ahead of them. Then he stopped suddenly, whirling around to look Luna straight in the eye. “They didn’t touch you, did they?”   
  
“No,” Luna said immediately, a strange desire to protect Draco flaring up. However, she soon found that she could not lie to Michael, not when staring into his eyes. “Well…not really.” She hesitated. ”Draco did grab me –”   
  
“He WHAT?” Michael and Harry both shouted. Michael’s mind jumped into action, imagining what Draco could have done do Luna, and all the different ways he could make him pay.  
  
“Where did he touch you?” Michael asked savagely. “Wherever he grabbed you, that’s the body part he loses.”   
  
“No, listen!” Luna said hastily, catching up to Michael and taking his hand. “It wasn’t like that! He was trying to be intimidating, but as you know, he’s not…” She smiled, looking very satisfied. “Did you notice how he was already a little shaken up by the time you arrived?”   
  
“What did you do?” Michael asked, smiling despite himself.   
  
“He tried to stop me leaving by grabbing my arm. I don't think he's had the same fight training we have. It was really quite funny watching him fall into Goyle’s waiting arms.”   
  
“Maybe Malfoy was right,” Harry said seriously. “You were the one who taught her that mate, maybe you are a bad influence on her.”   
  
“Oh, the absolute worst,” Michael grinned. “Tomorrow night I’m planning on introducing her to the wicked world of motorcycle dueling, after a few stiff drinks, of course.”  
  
They all laughed, Luna doing so happily, relieved she had defused the situation before Malfoy lost a limb or two.   
  
“So, what should we do about them?” Harry asked as they approached the heap of bodies, Michael dropping the Hawthorn wand onto Draco’s blank face.   
  
“Personally I'm partial to hanging,” Michael suggested lightheartedly, receiving an elbow to the ribs from Luna. “It was a joke, sorry!”   
  
“Let’s just leave them,” Luna said indifferently. “They won't be up for about an hour…maybe Mr. Filch will find them and they’ll get detention.”   
  
Michael shrugged and led the other two silently, blindly, up the staircase of Ravenclaw tower. Harry respectfully began counting stones in the wall while Michael and Luna said a quick goodbye.  
  
“Well, good night,” Luna smiled. Harry smiled back at her and Michael held up one hand in farewell. Michael and Harry turned to leave, and as they descended the stairs, they heard Luna answering the knocker’s question about human Transfiguration.   
  
“So, how are we planning to convince Dumbledore to let the others go?” Harry asked as they reached the bottom of the stairs. He made no effort to avoid any of the three Slytherins, instead walking carelessly over them.   
  
“I have no idea,” Michael admitted, making sure to tread on Malfoy's fingers. “I talked a big game back in the common room, but I really don’t know if he’s going to go for this…but maybe if the two of us put on our best puppy dog faces….”   
  
“Well, we’ll just have to explain how important this is,” Harry said with a shrug, picking up Crabbe’s wand and throwing it down the dark hallway. “Without letting on why it’s so important to Luna.”   
  
“I'm afraid it’s too late for that, Harry.”   
  
Dumbledore seemed to be making a habit of entering conversations unexpectedly, for he had spoke and was walking towards them, coming from the same direction Harry had just thrown Crabbe’s wand.   
  
“Professor – we were just on our way to talk to you,” Michael began.   
  
“I know,” Dumbledore sighed. “I also know about Miss Lovegood’s past. It would seem that leading a double life is something of a standard for STRIKE.” Michael stared, dumbfounded, and Harry was the quicker of the two to speak.  
  
“What are you talking about Professor?” Harry asked quickly.   
  
“I knew Elysina Lovegood,” he told them sadly. “She was not only a member of your organization, but of mine as well. She worked alongside the Order of the Phoenix during the last war. When I heard what happened to her, living peacefully in America, I was deeply saddened.”   
  
“But why –” Michael stared, but Dumbledore cut him off.   
  
“I know what you are going to ask, Michael. Why, if I knew all these years, did I never tell Luna about her mother? I had no inkling that Luna needed any telling. I did not believe for an instant Elysina Lovegood had died by her own hand. I had no way of knowing, however, that her daughter’s memories had been addled.”  
  
“Her memories…can be restored,” Michael told Dumbledore. “I've found a way to do it, I just need some help.”  
  
“Miss Lovegood is an extraordinary student,” Dumbledore beamed. “And a very brave young woman. Her mother helped me many times, I would be honored to repay her daughter.”  
  
“So, you will understand that we have to leave again, only for a day?” Michael asked slyly.   
  
“Where exactly are you planning a vacation to this time?” Dumbledore inquired. His eyes pierced Michael and he knew there was no point speaking anything but the truth.  
  
“Me and Luna are going to Stonehenge tomorrow,” Michael stated, frowning at the tone of his own voice.  
  
“So you can take in the magical energy there, and enable yourself to repair Miss Lovegood’s memories,” Dumbledore said, nodding. “It makes sense…but there’s something else, isn’t there?”   
  
“Yes, sir, I'm afraid so. While on St. Lucia, we discovered and fought an enemy with powers…beyond what I expected. I haven't seen anything like that outside of Voldemort. He almost overwhelmed all seven of us. He may be planning to come after us again, and I feel a trip to the Stones would give us an edge against him, should he try an attempt on our lives.”   
  
“Hmm,” Dumbledore considered Michael’s determined face. “Yes, yes I suppose a trip to Wiltshire would not be out of the question, as long as all seven of you go together. But wait a moment, Michael,” he said, as Michael had started to speak. “Tell me about this person you fought on the island.”  
  
Michael sighed deeply. He gave Dumbledore the same explanation he had just given his friends. At the end of the story, Dumbledore stared at a blank piece of wall for a moment, apparently digesting all the information Michael had given him. He knew, as head of the Order of the Phoenix, that Dumbledore could make good use out of this information.   
  
“Thank you for telling me this,” Dumbledore finally said.   
  
“Thank you for understanding, Professor” Michael said appreciatively. “It will only be a few hours at the most.”   
  
“If I may ask,” Dumbledore began wearily, gesturing down at the three unconscious Slytherins, “What exactly necessitated this?”   
  
“They tried to jump Luna on her way back to the Ravenclaw common room,” Michael said angrily, while Harry nodded.   
  
“Why would three students attack Miss Lovegood?” Dumbledore asked. He looked as though he already knew the answer, but wanted to hear what Michael and Harry thought.   
  
“Because she and I are dating,” Michael said, with no amount of embarrassment. “Malfoy hates me because I'm ex-Auror and current STRIKE, and that complicates his Dad’s plans for world domination. I suppose his goons followed out of stupid devotion.”   
  
“I'm glad you two have found happiness together,” Dumbledore said, smiling at him. “There are hard times ahead of us, hold close to each other.”  
  
“What about them?” Harry asked, glaring down at Crabbe, who was starting to stir feebly.   
  
“About who?” Dumbledore asked, staring up at the ceiling, as if he was searching for a miniscule detail in the stone. “I'm afraid the only people I see here are myself, you, and Harry. I therefore have no reason to hand out punishment for anything that may or may not have happened here. Good night to you boys.”   
  
He strode off down the passageway he had came from, humming cheerfully. Michael looked at Harry, pleasantly surprised by Dumbledore’s reaction, both to his request and to his discovery of Malfoy and his gang’s unconscious forms.   
  
“Well, back to the common room then?” Harry asked.   
  
“Yeah, just one more thing,” Michael muttered. He took out his wand and waved it over the three Slytherins, causing their pants to disappear, revealing in Crabbe’s case boxers with pink flowers on them. “No one touches my girlfriend.”   
  
The following Saturday was a cheerful one, made so by the prospects of what would occur later that night, and by the simple fact of Michael’s return. Hermione was in such a good mood that she even allowed Harry and Ron to pass their homework on to her, and she had it done in record time, even for her.   
  
Luna meanwhile, had taken to hanging on to Michael constantly, bombarding him with questions about her past, about what she would soon remember for herself.   
  
“Look,” Michael said, trying not to sound annoyed, “we’re leaving in about four hours. Then you’ll remember everything for yourself. You wouldn’t want me to spoil the surprise, would you?”   
  
The seven friends were sitting down by the lake, under the shade of a large tree. They found it relatively quiet, given that it was a Saturday, and they were allowed to simply talk in peace.   
  
“No, I suppose not,” Luna sighed, disentangling herself from him, instead moving down to the water’s edge, letting her feet dangle into the murky water. Michael was strongly reminded of a similar scene nearly a decade ago, of he and Luna splashing around in a much smaller pond, tough they had both been much smaller themselves.   
  
“Anyone want to join me for a swim?” Michael asked, standing up and pulling off his shirt.   
  
“Are you crazy?” Sarah asked, while Harry and Ron stood up next to her, stripping off their shirts. “Look at that water! It’s filthy!”   
  
“And there’s a giant squid in the lake,” Hermione pointed out.   
  
Michael stared at her in disbelief. Sarah sighed and shook her head.   
  
“You shouldn’t have said that, Hermione,” she said wisely, as Jeff too stood up and joined the other three at the bank. “It’ll only encourage them…”   
  
“Never fought a giant octopus before,” Jeff was saying happily. “I bet we can take him,” he told the other boys confidently.   
  
“It’s a squid,” Harry said. “And we won't have to fight it, it usually leaves everybody alone. Most the time anyway.”   
  
“Just a second,” Luna said, standing up too.   
  
“You’re getting in?” Michael asked in surprise, looking her up and down. She was dressed in long shorts and a loose shirt that was a vivid pink. “Um, sure, why not…”   
  
She pulled off her shirt, and for a moment Jeff, Harry, and Ron’s eyes went wide with shock and poorly disguised excitement. It transpired however, that instead of a bra, she had on a bikini top under her shirt.   
  
“That's not your usual dress,” Michael noted, eyebrows raised.   
  
“No, but I knew you four wouldn’t be able to sit still for very long, so I just assumed we would be headed into the lake.” She dove gracefully into the lake with a tiny ripple, then pushed her head back above the water, motioning for the others to join her. Her long blonde hair clung to her back as she smiled happily, invitingly at them.   
  
They did so, shoving and pushing to be the first one in. Michael actually threw Jeff to the ground, then tripped Ron before diving in after Luna. The others followed, curling up into balls in midair.   
  
They stayed in for nearly an hour, and despite their best efforts, Michael and Jeff were unsuccessful in locating the squid rumored to live in the lake. As it began to grow dark, students began parading back into the castle, telling the group that it was time for dinner.   
  
“So, when are we going to leave?” Luna asked eagerly, putting her shirt back on and drying herself with her wand.   
  
“I suppose right after dinner,” Michael shrugged, repeating Luna’s wand movement and spell. “Most of the Muggles should be gone by then.”   
  
“How are we getting there?” Ron asked. “Another Portkey, or something else?”   
  
“We’re Apparating,” Michael answered. “There’s really no need to put in an order for another Portkey.”   
  
“But me, Harry, and Hermione can't Apparate yet,” Ron told him “We start lessons pretty soon, but none of us can actually do it.”   
  
“Oh, I think you’ll manage,” Michael said mysteriously. “Just trust me, it won't be hard.”   
  
Ron and Hermione shared looks of disbelief. Harry spoke for Michael. “We’ve got it covered,” he assured his friends.  
  
They ate dinner quickly, except for Luna, who only moved her food around her plate, looking anxious.   
  
“Something wrong?” Ron asked thickly, his mouth full of his third helping of roast beef.   
  
“She’s obviously nervous Ron,” Hermione said exasperatedly. “Think of what she’s about to go through!”   
  
“I’ll be fine, really,” Luna said, still not paying a lot of attention to her surroundings, though this was not uncommon. “It’s going to be a big change, but change is good. I think this is going to be a change for the better – a change back.”   
  
“It's going to be fine,” Michael assured her. “Don't worry about it.”  
  
“I'm not worried,” Luna said, smiling dreamily.  
  
“Hey, Harry,” Ron said suddenly. He put down his fork and nodded darkly behind Michael, Harry, and Luna, who sat opposite Ron, Jeff, Sarah, and Hermione.  
  
Harry turned, and so did Michael and Luna. A very pretty girl was walking towards them; she impatiently brushed her long, jet black hair off of her shoulder as she walked.  
  
Harry and Hermione groaned and even Luna looked a little odd, which Michael found disturbing. Luna wasn't usually phased or intimidated by anyone.  
  
“What's up?” Michael asked in confusion. But Hermione shook her head to quell him. Sarah narrowed her eyes at the newcomer, though Jeff continued to eat, if a little more slowly.  
  
“Cho?” Harry asked as the girl approached the table. “What're you doing here?”  
  
“I'm not here for  _you_ , Harry,” Cho sniffed. “I was wondering what makes Luna think she's too good to sit with her own house.”  
  
“Well,” Luna said thoughtfully, “mostly it's because you and most of Ravenclaw were always so cruel to me….”  
  
“What are you talking about?” Cho frowned.   
  
“I can hear all the horrible things you always say about me,” Luna explained. “Just because I don't say anything doesn't mean I don't notice it. I may not be cool, like you, but I don't have a Wackspurt.”  
  
“So you sit with  _them_?” Cho scoffed.  
  
“Who's them?” Sarah asked dangerously. Cho seemed not to have made a good first impression on the confrontational girl.  
  
Cho ignored this. “Luna, come back to the Ravenclaw table,” she said, in a slightly softer voice. “They'll only hurt you.”  
  
“What do  _you_ care?” Michael and Harry asked at the same time. Michael didn't know what Harry's issue was, but he personally didn't take kindly to being told he would hurt Luna. Both boys crossed their arms defiantly, glaring at Cho.  
  
“Luna, come  _on_ ,” Cho said, reaching out and grabbing her arm.  
  
“No thank you, Cho,” Luna replied pleasantly, though she jerked her arm from Cho's grip. She turned back to the table and to her food. “Just because you ruined your chance with Harry - and you didn't ever really have one with –”  
  
“ _He_ ruined it,” Cho snapped, suddenly flushing an angry red. She glared at the back of Luna's head. Michael frowned. “And there was never anything else with - I didn't want –”  
  
“Oh, I'm sorry then,” Luna said. “I always was under the impression you enjoyed both sides of the spectrum.”  
  
“Wait,” Jeff said at last. He was looking curiously at a furious Cho Chang. “You and Luna –?”  
  
“No!” Cho said fiercely. “Just because Luna can't understand anything! You take any little gesture as something more because you don't get any affection from anyone!”  
  
“I think you asking me is more than a little gesture,” Luna said softly.  
  
While Luna spoke more quietly than before, Michael suddenly found his voice much louder. “I really think you should leave,” Michael suggested harshly. “This conversation is over.”  
  
“Let me guess,” Cho said, and there were hints of tears in her eyes. “Luna,  _he_ ,” she gestured angrily at Michael, “did something nice for you, and you suddenly assumed he cared about you! Why would he? You're a freak!” The tears were rolling down her cheeks now.  
  
Luna's mouth twitched, and Michael reached out and grabbed her hand reassuringly. Then, he turned his now frightening glare to Cho. “Let me guess,” he said coldly. “You're hot, and you probably developed early, which  _confused_ ,” he winked, “you.   
  
“So, you got into relationships at the age of twelve, but now you can't stand to look at yourself in the mirror because all you see is a whore. So you pick on Luna to avoid the inevitable realization that your looks will be gone by age twenty-five and you'll be so alone you'll take the first pity date you get. Am I in the Pitch here?”  
  
Cho blinked several times. Her face went from red to ghostly white. “That...or some unrequited feelings?” Michael added quietly.  
  
“It’s all right, Michael,” Luna urged, turning back to her. “Cho, please, go away. Nothing's ever going to work out here. Just leave us alone, please.”  
  
Cho blinked again, looking for a moment as though she was going to say something harsh. But then she turned on her heel and stormed away, wiping her eyes on her sleeve as she did so.  
  
******************************************************************************  
They waited another hour after dinner before leaving. The seven friends sat up in the common room, Sarah, Hermione, Luna, and Harry occupying the four armchairs. Ron and Jeff were cracking jokes to the laughter of the others, and Michael was standing away from the others, staring out the window, into blackness.   
  
“I think we should go now,” Michael said at last. “Is that all right Luna?”   
  
“Yes, I've been waiting all day,” she said, quickly getting to her feet, her face showing a mixture of fear and excitement. “But how are we going to Apparate there? You can't inside Hogwarts. Unless we’re going to shrink and ride a bird? I've always wanted to….”   
  
“I'm just going to ask for a little help,” Michael said simply. He nodded at Harry, who raised his voice and called, “Dobby!”   
  
There was a loud crack and Dobby the House Elf stood before them, grinning widely at the sight of them all.   
  
“Harry Potter!” he squealed happily.   
  
“Good to see you again Dobby,” Harry grinned, a little awkwardly, as Dobby ran forward and hugged his legs.   
  
“Harry and I were on our way back to the common room last night,” Michael explained, watching as Ron accepted a hug from Dobby as well, “but we still had no plan for getting out of the castle. Harry came up with the idea and we went to the kitchen to find him.”   
  
“Michael Jacobs is a very kind Wizard! He says bad things about Dobby’s old masters, and fights to stop them!” Dobby squeaked.   
  
“We asked him for a favor, which he very graciously consented to.” Michael smiled at the small elf.  
  
“Apparition!” Hermione whispered, finally catching on. “House Elves can Apparate in and out of Hogwarts! Dobby, can you-”   
  
“Yes, Hermione Granger yes!” the elf said enthusiastically. “Dobby would be honored to take the young masters to Stonehenge! It would be his pleasure!”   
  
“Dobby, that’s great!” Ron said.   
  
“We can go now, if you like” he told them, stretching out a tiny hand for them to take.  
  
“I think we’re ready,” Michael said, glancing at Luna, who swallowed and nodded.   
  
The elf’s tiny hand was far too small for the seven of them to grip at once, so they simply placed their palms anywhere there was room on him. He didn’t think to count down, so they were caught off guard when he suddenly turned into Apparation.   
  
They yelled their surprise, but seconds later they touched down on solid ground. It was fortunate Michael had chosen this time of night to make their journey, for Dobby had not thought of the Muggles that could be in the area, and Apparated into the very center of the stones.   
  
“Light 'em up,” Michael instructed the others, who drew their wands and muttered “ _Lumos_ ”.   
  
In the light of the seven wands, the simple majesty of the rough stones was laid out before them. They turned in place, taking in the awesome sight of the Magic Collectors and feeling the raw power loosed by them.   
  
“Can Dobby go now?” the elf asked nervously. “Only, I is afraid of the dark…”   
  
“Sure, Dobby” Harry said. “Can we call you again to pick us up?” Dobby nodded quickly, flapping his ears, then vanished on the spot.   
  
“I feel it,” Ron whispered. “I feel what you meant, about the energy around here. It’s like it’s…flowing though me….”   
  
“Yeah, it’s awesome,” Jeff whispered. “I've never felt anything like this before.”   
  
“Shall we get started then?” Michael asked Luna, who was gazing up at an arch shaped set of stones in wonder.   
  
“Yes, let’s do it,” she breathed.   
  
“Wait. First we should probably ensure our privacy,” Sarah said, glancing around at the apparently deserted area. She waved her wand and said, “ _Homenum Revelio_!”   
  
Nothing happened. It seemed as though there was no human presence besides the seven teens.   
  
Sarah then put up some Muggle Repelling Charms, waving her wand in circles and aiming at particular spots around them.  
  
“If everyone’s happy now,” Michael said shortly, “maybe we should get on with this?”  
   
“What do I do?” Luna asked. “Where do I stand, is there something –” She stopped talking as Michael walked slowly over to her, and took her by the hand.   
  
“Come with me,” he said quietly, leading her over to the stones she had been transfixed by earlier. He noticed her trembling slightly, and squeezed her hand reassuringly. The other five followed, lagging behind a little, giving Luna and Michael enough space to have a private conversation.   
  
“Why don’t you guys each pick a stone,” Michael called to them over his shoulder, “and see what you can get from it. Just let the Magic fill you.”   
  
They understood his dismissal and strode off in different directions, attaching themselves to one of the large stones. Harry, Sarah, and Jeff closed their eyes and sunk to the grass, sitting in the grass with their backs against the hard rock. Ron and Hermione each picked a rock next to the other and stood with a palm pressed against the stone.   
  
Michael and Luna stopped before the arch like stone Michael had designated and together they looked up at it. Michael took both of her hands and moved within inches of her body. His dark eyes stared into her blue ones, searching for any sign that she wasn’t sure this was what she wanted. He found none.   
  
Michael took a deep breath. “Luna, I need you to understand something, okay?”  
  
“Yes?” Luna prompted, looking him over.  
  
“This is an incredibly difficult bit of magic,” Michael said. “I did a lot of research into this. Erasing memories is one thing, even implanting new memories isn’t too difficult, but bringing back lost ones...its near impossible.”  
  
“But we don't believe in impossible,” Luna replied, smiling at him as if it was  _she_ trying to reassure  _him_.  
  
“No, we don't,” Michael said, the corners of his mouth almost forming a smile. “But what I'm trying to say Luna, is that I do think I can do this. Frankly, I'm a powerful Wizard, I think we both know that. I'm confident. But…but Luna, if I mess this up, if the spell goes wrong, if my powers aren’t enough, the two sets of conflicting memories…they’ll drive you mad. You’ll go insane, Luna.”  
  
Luna continued to smile blithely at him. “That's all right,” she said, “I'm already mad anyway. Plus,” she went on before Michael could interrupt her, “I know you can do this.”  
  
“Also,” Michael couldn’t help but mention, “there’s another thing I should mention before we do this, although I would guess you already know it.”  
  
“This spell is going to connect us to each other, isn't it?” Luna asked, nodding. “We’re linking our minds, who knows what kind of aftereffects it could have? But you still want to?”  
  
“I'm not going anywhere,” Michael said confidently. Luna rubbed his hand with her thumb.  
  
“Whatever this might do to us, I'm glad it’s us.”  
  
Grateful for the boost in confidence, Michael prepared to continue the act.  
  
“Okay, I need you to close your eyes. And let’s move a little closer to the stones, there we go…” He took a deep breath and called on every ounce of magical power he possessed and any he could gather from the air around him.   
  
Finally achieving the level of strength he required, he took one last look at Luna’s pale, blank face, into her eyelids, as if he could see her soul though what lay beneath them. He then closed his own eyes. Michael concentrated hard on the order of operations her had to perform. Luna’s mind first…it’s the most important thing.  
  
He reached out his wand, blind but certain, and touched it to Luna’s temple, holding it there for a short moment before pulling it away, a shimmering silver light now pooled around the tip, which he pressed against the side of his own forehead, feeling a strange cool, rushing, almost invasive sensation as he did so. Suddenly, Michael was forced to clench his teeth to avoid crying out. His head suddenly hurt so very bad, heavy, as if he had the worst head cold of his life. He wondered momentarily if he had taken on too much, if his mind was about to be overwhelmed and destroyed. But then, just as abruptly as it started, the pain was gone, leaving only a dull throbbing in his head. He squeezed his eyes shut a little tighter and gently shook his head back and forth.  
  
No time to focus on that now…the spell had to be completed. But now, despite the horrid pain he had just endured, was something that he desired even less. It was time to un-write Luna’s artificial mind, strip it down bare so the proper memories could take hold…could he really do this? Even as he unconsciously raised his wand back towards Luna, he faltered. Any small misstep here, and unclear purpose, a mental mispronunciation, even the horrifying thought of himself altering a memory here or there to present himself in a better light, or even to make Luna forget a terrible experience…but no. That was the crime that had been committed against her once, he would not allow it again. But  _could_ he do it?  
  
“I can.”  
  
Michael shocked himself. He had spoken out loud, without even meaning to give an answer. Where had that come fr – Luna. This was Luna’s mind mingling with his own. He wasn’t just taking her memories and knowledge, he was sharing in some of  _her_. Her feelings, her beliefs, her desires and fears.  
  
 _Luna believed in him_.  
  
He had always known it, but to be witness to it in such a way…Michael wasn’t sure he’d ever know how to express to Luna how grateful he was for her. But that was later. As for now – he flicked his wand in a single upwards motion.  
  
Luna dropped to her knees, Michael could hear it even if he couldn’t see it. He joined her on the ground without really thinking, it was essential they remained on the same level in all meanings of the phrase. He thought he heard a gasp from one of the others, but ignored it. This was their moment, more intimate than the night they had shared in St. Lucia.  
  
Michael knew there was only one step left. He had to calm himself, shut himself, focus himself to stitch together the broken pieces of Luna’s mind with his own. He had to weed out the untruths, searching for things he knew to be real, even if he had not seen them. This was the hard part…deep down, beyond the enchantment, Luna’s mind retained the memory of her mother’s final stand, but Michael only knew it from descriptions. It was like being asked to find a single puzzle piece out of a box of a thousand after only hearing a brief depiction of it. Fleetingly, Michael hoped none of the others would ask him what he was doing here, or how. As long as he lived, he’d never be able to explain to the others, any of them, what this was like.  
  
There it was…Michael couldn’t see it perfectly clearly, but something inside him, perhaps Luna’s dormant mind, was calling out, almost stretching towards this one memory. This was the day Luna had lost her mother, the moment her mind had been shattered. This was the lynchpin of her entire mental state…it was time to put it back in place.  
  
Michael reached out and took her hands, which were unsettlingly limp in his own. He could feel it migrating down from the top of his head, through his throat, his heart, down his arms and out his hands into hers. He was giving back what he had taken from her, with interest. Michael was…sad to see it go, he realized. As the transfer continued, his head now felt light and a little empty. It had been a shock to be so close to Luna at first, but now, he felt slightly lonely without her presence.  
  
It was done. Luna’s hands were moving a little in his and he loosened his grip a little, although she did not move. After hesitating as long as he could bear, Michael opened his eyes and looked at Luna. She seemed to sense this and raised her face to his. Her breath was quick and shallow, but when she opened her eyes and looked into Michael’s, he saw, for the first time in seven years, all of Luna Lovegood looking back at him.   
  
“Luna,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and raspy. “Luna, do you – can you?”   
  
She didn’t say anything for a moment, but stared into his eyes, blinking away the tears in hers. Then she said,   
  
“Scrambles.”   
  
“What?” Michael asked quickly. What if he had done the spell wrong? What if he had ruined her mind? What had he done?   
  
“Scrambles,” she repeated clearly, her blue orbs shining. “The name of your old dog. We used to play with him all the time, until he died when we were nine.”   
  
“You remember!” Michael shouted, overwhelmed. “It worked, I can't believe it worked!”  
  
 He punched the air and got to his feet, stumbling as he did, grabbing onto the stone to steady himself.   
  
“Everything’s so clear!” she whispered, pulling herself up in kind. “I remember you, and Mum, and everyone! Michael, I remember you!” She actually jumped up and down on the spot; Michael couldn’t remember ever seeing her so enthusiastic.  
  
“That’s great!” he said happily. “Everyone, get over here!” he yelled at the others, who sprinted over to them, looking concerned.   
  
“What’s going on?” Harry panted. “Did it work?”   
  
“Yes, it did!” Luna cried, kissing Michael quickly, then out of sheer joy, grabbing Harry, who was closest, and doing the same, though with a bit less passion.   
  
“I think you did a good thing here, Michael,” Jeff chuckled, watching Harry’s shocked expression. Still beset with happiness, and before anyone knew what was happening, Luna gave Sarah a quick kiss too.   
  
Sarah blinked and stepped back, while Michael and Jeff looked simply amazed. Luna didn't even seem to know what was going on.  
  
“So what now?” Harry asked, grinning awkwardly.   
  
“Not back to Hogwarts, that’s for sure,” Luna said nearly jumping with delight. “I won't be able to sleep for days!”  
  
“I thought you just changed her memories,” Sarah smiled, “not her personality.”   
  
“Why on earth would I ever want to do that?” Michael asked, receiving another kiss.   
  
“What exactly do you do for fun in Wiltshire in the middle of the night?” Ron asked.   
Michael and Jeff smirked simultaneously, glancing at Luna and Sarah respectively.   
  
“Who could’ve guessed?,” Ron said, though he too smiled.   
  
“I think we really should – what? No!” Hermione suddenly cried, pointing unnecessarily into the night sky, over the town of Wiltshire. None of them needed  her to point it out – the Dark Mark was as clear as ever.


	20. Chapter 21: Lost and Found

“What the fuck are Death Eaters doing here?” Jeff snarled, expressing everyone’s shared thought, perhaps more crassly than they would have.   
  
“There’s no way this is a coincidence,” Harry said grimly, drawing his wand.  
  
“You think they tracked us here?” Michael asked him, frowning.  
  
“They can’t have, can they?” Sarah asked dubiously.  
  
“It doesn’t matter!” Hermione said shrilly, looking at them all with eyes full of fear. “We need to do something or they’ll ravage the entire town!”  
  
“She’s right,” Sarah nodded. “We need to mount a rescue…should we call STRIKE?” she added to Michael, who rubbed the back of his neck. His hand went to his pocket, containing his STRIKE issued MD. Lives were at stake…but calling in backup would mean revealing Luna. He briefly considered asking her to leave, or hide, but remembered his promise to her days ago. He could never again do that to her, this was  _their_ fight.  
  
“They're not attacking the city,” Luna said quietly. “Look.”  
  
Michael followed her pointed finger up into the night sky. There was another flash of light and a loud laugh in the distance. More multicolored explosions followed, popping off one after the other in a terrifying cacophony.   
  
“They're coming for us,” Ron said, his wand shaking slightly.  
  
“And they want us to know,” Michael finished, narrowing his eyes. “They're not making any effort to hide…they must be pretty confident.”  
  
“Do we stay and fight?” Jeff asked jerkily, looking all around. They were running out of time – the spells were getting closer now.  
  
“We don’t have a choice,” Michael said instantly. “If we flee, there’s no way they won't turn around and torch Wiltshire. All we can do is take them out. Everyone ready?”  
  
“Do we have a plan?” Luna inquired.   
  
“I don’t know, do we?” Michael replied, turning to Ron. “Chessmaster?”  
  
“Hard to make a plan if we can’t see all the pieces mate,” Ron answered uncertainly.   
  
“Jeff, come scout ahead with me,” Michael said, shifting his eyes to his best friend who nodded wordlessly. “Everyone else, take in any magical energy you can from the Stones and put up all the defensive spells you can think of. We’ll be right back.”  
  
“Be careful,” Luna said softly. Michael gave her a confident smile than rapidly turning into a snarl as he transformed down into his wolf form. He turned his newly elongated head to confirm Jeff had done the same. The tan wolf inclined its head slightly at him and together they took off from the group, racing towards the ever closing group of figures.  
  
Heading south, Michael turned a little to his right, leading Jeff up a small hill that nevertheless offered a decent vantage point. Reaching the top of the hill, both wolves slunk down low, waiting and sniffing, their senses bombarded by smells and sounds undetectable to humans.   
  
If wolves could gasp, Michael would have at that moment. Moving like a mob, no less than twenty Death Eaters prowled the countryside, slowly inching closer and closer to the base of Stonehenge. Two figures plainly led the group, marching at its head, one moving much quicker and more enthusiastically than the other. The faster figure fired a careless spell towards the stones. It ricocheted off the rock it hit, careening upwards and exploding among the stars.  
  
With no more time to spare, Michael took off in a mad dash back to his friends, careful to avoid the eyes of the rampaging Death Eaters. Michael was treated to a moment of absolute panic as he neared the stones again, finding nothing but trampled grass and shadowy monoliths. He came to a full stop, sniffing the air and searching desperately for the others. Unable to find any trace of them, Michael prepared to revert to human form and attempt a locator spell. Failing that, it would be time to start yelling. He was delayed, however, by Jeff sprinting ahead of him, back into the center of Stonehenge, vanishing in a shimmer as he crossed the outer perimeter of the stones.  
  
Confused but harried, Michael followed his friend. The second he reached the stones it was as if someone was shining a light directly into his eyes. This shocked him so much he lost his balance – unusual for his animal form – and tumbled head over heels, losing control of his Animagus magic as he did so, so that he landed flat on his back, human once more.  
  
It turned out someone was shining a light directly into his eyes, and that someone was Luna. In fact, not only her, but Harry and Sarah had their wands aimed down at him. Luna’s face quickly broke into a relieved smile as she stuck her wand behind her ear and then reached down to offer him a hand up.  
  
“I’m sorry about that,” Luna said dreamily, helping him to his feet. Michael brushed himself off and looked around. “We couldn’t make a charm powerful enough to let us see out while keeping them from seeing in, so we had no idea you and Jeff were coming back.” Michael nodded; Jeff was with Ron, talking rapidly while Hermione stood in the center of the haven, chanting under her breath, her wand moving nonstop.  
  
“Impressive,” Michael said seriously, “but it won't hold. There’s at least twenty of them, we can’t hold out here.”  
  
“Voldemort?” Harry asked sharply. Michael shook his head.  
  
“No, I don’t think so. Stetnas might be with them though, I couldn’t tell who was in charge.” Luna’s smile dropped and her dreamy expression vanished completely at the mention of the name.  
  
“About twenty, right?” Ron said abruptly, he and Jeff turning as one towards them. Michael nodded. “Then we don’t stand a chance in a full battle, do we? Even with whatever tricks we have, I don’t think we win if we go up against that many at once.”  
  
“Do you have an alternative?” Michael asked, crossing his arms.  
  
“We split into two groups,” Ron answered. “Four of us stay here while the other three sneak away. The second team gets around the side of them and then at the same time, we let them have it. That should pick off a few of them and split enough Wizards off for us manage.”  
  
“That’s a sound plan Ron,” Hermione said, looking much more confident now. “But who should go in the smaller team?”  
  
“You and Jeff need to stay here,” Michael said slowly. “You two are the best at defensive spells and wards. I’ll take the away team –”  
  
“With me.”  
  
“With Luna,” Michael went on as if his girlfriend had not spoken, “and Harry.”  
  
“I’m ready,” Harry agreed quickly. Michael smiled at him. He wanted Harry with him for a few reasons, but the main reason was that harry was simply the next best fighter. Michael had been initially shocked at Harry's dueling skills, but it turned out the Boy Who Lived wasn’t all luck. He had surpassed Jeff and Sarah weeks ago.  
  
Michael, Luna, and Harry moved away from the rest. Another spell exploded onto the stone nearest them – they could hear catcalling voices now.   
  
“We’ll attack first with a red spell,” Michael told Ron. “If either group gets overwhelmed, send up green sparks and we’ll come assist you. Everyone ready?”  
  
“Just don’t take too long,” Sarah said, glancing at the eerily empty field before them. “I don’t know how long we can hold.”  
  
“Long enough,” Jeff said gruffly. He put his left arm around her waist.  
  
Michael chuckled at that, which made Jeff roll his eyes and retract his arm so that he could give Michael a proper one fingered salute.  
  
“We should use elemental earth magic to fight them,” Luna suggested. Sarah raised her eyebrows.   
  
“Earth elemental?”  
  
“That’s right,” Luna said confidently. “This place is full of the right kind of magic for it.” Sarah shrugged and inclined her head slightly at her friend.  
  
“C’mon,” Michael said to Harry and Luna, turning his back on the others. His partners fell into step right behind him, a step which quickly became a full on run. They raced out the left side of the stones, back to the east, where Michael and Jeff had scouted the enemy a short time ago.  
  
They were close. The Death Eaters seemed momentarily baffled by the apparently empty area, loitering just outside the stones. But as Michael watched and ran, one of the two leaders stepped forward and raised a wand, waving it skyward in a circular motion. The figure raised its head, and Michael thought they were sniffing the air. Then, the caster began to laugh, a loud, taunting, mad laugh…Bellatrix.  
  
“They're here!” she cried jubilantly. “Take them!”  
  
One of the Death Eaters directly behind her charged past Bellatrix, heading straight between two stones, his wand outstretched like he intended to stab one of them with it. He made it exactly to the edge of Jeff and Hermione’s wards before being blown backwards. He flew the entire distance through the air, landing roughly on his back at Bellatrix’s feet. He stirred slightly, but the smell of burnt skin was a clear message. Their defenses were not to be laughed at.  
  
“Oh, they learned some tricks, did they?” Bellatrix called shrilly into the night. “Well kids, we grownups have a few tricks of our own!” Bellatrix aimed her wand into the dead center of Stonehenge and fired a streaking red light. The spell banged into the barrier with a strangely metallic sound. The formerly invisible wall shimmered with the impact, taking on a pale red hue, cracking and crackling slightly after the attack.  
  
The other leader stepped forward and raised his wand as well, copying Bellatrix’s spell, although his was silver.  
  
“All at once then,” a sleek voice ordered. “Let’s see how they stand up to more than poor Rowle….” The amassed Death Eaters immediately complied, raising up their wands in preparation to follow through on Lucius Malfoy’s instructions.  
  
“Now!”   
  
Michael’s shout combined with his exploding burst of magic was enough to startle the Death Eaters back into inaction, at least for a few seconds. Realizing the others would only be able to see Michael’s signal if he aimed it above them, over their protections, he was unable to actually target any of the enemy. Luna and Harry were free from such obligations, however.  
  
Harry rained down a mass of red lights onto the horde of masked men and women, striking three while Luna drew herself up to her fullest height and inhaled deeply. She narrowed her eyes at the group before swinging her wand from her side to the ready position, giving it a small final flick with her wrist while calling out the word “ _Rechter_!”  
  
For a split second, it seemed as though Luna’s spell had done nothing, but as Luna calmly lowered her wand, he began to feel an unsettling shaking under his feet. It was enough to make him stick out his arms to balance himself, nearly falling over onto Harry. The vibration became less intense quickly however, although that did not appear to be the case everywhere. A small crack was splitting in the earth, traveling down the hill, crossing the twenty yards between Michael and Bellatrix before she could react with more than a scream.   
  
Whatever difficulties Michael had had standing before were nothing compared to the troubles of Voldemort’s men, most of whom were falling flat on their faces or grabbing onto each other for support. Lucius Malfoy barely jumped out of the way of an errant spell fired by a flailing Death Eater while Bellatrix lost her footing in a small depression forming almost consciously around her. Luna’s eyes shifted over to Michael’s stunned face.  
  
“See?” she asked patiently. “Earth elemental spells.”  
  
“Just be careful you have a handle on it!” Michael said desperately. “We’re all dead if we damage the stones.”  
  
“I’d never let that happen,” Luna said, turning her attention back to the Death Eaters. “My friends are there.”  
  
Timing their appearance perfectly, Ron, Hermione, Jeff, and Sarah burst through the sparking barrier between them and the Death Eaters, taking the already harried group by surprise. Jeff, Ron, and Sarah immediately began their attack while Hermione projected a patchwork Shield Charm ahead of them, opening holes for her friends' spells to pass through while rapidly closing spots the Death Eaters attacked in retaliation.  
  
Knowing even they wouldn’t last long in close quarters, Michael knew it was time to split their group. While Harry and Luna continued their bombardment, Michael placed his wand to his throat and muttered, “ _Sonorous_.” Ignoring how scratchy his throat had become, he threw back his head like a howling wolf.  
  
“BELLATRIX!”  
  
His voice carried like a spell itself across the battlefield, drawing the attention of every Witch or Wizard not currently locked in combat. Bella’s hood had fallen and her mask was gone – it was clear as day as she turned to him, a lesser Death Eater hastily blocking the curse Jeff fired at her back.  
  
“Jacobs!” she cried back, almost as loudly despite having no magical magnification. She sounded giddy, glad to have found him. She couldn’t want to finally have it out with him.  
  
Michael smirked. He had counted on that.  
  
“Come!” she hissed to a group of fighters closest to her, gesturing at them to follow her as she raised her wand and grinning back at Michael through the darkness, charged. She took four fighters with her, leaving Malfoy and five others to continue their battle with the other group of teenagers.   
  
“Leave Bellatrix,” Michael said gruffly, watching the enemy advance with narrowed eyes. Harry and Luna nodded at his side and took aim. “Drop the rest.”  
  
His friends needed no telling. Their twin spells were already on their way to their destination, streaking towards the Death Eaters on the far edges of Bellatrix’s group. Without breaking pace, Bellatrix sliced her wand savagely in front of them, sending out a crescent moon shaped explosion of magic which met Harry and Luna’s spells, detonating with a massive bang before they could damage the Death Eaters.  
  
Michael caught a growl in his throat. Bellatrix made her allies untouchable…only one way to resolve this. Without another word to his friends, he shifted his wand into a more comfortable grip in his right hand and set off down the hill, walking slowly towards the oncoming Dark Wizards. Bellatrix immediately locked eyes with him and her sneer became more pronounced.  
  
The Death Eater closest to her fired a spell at Michael, who did nothing to show he even noticed it, continuing his march towards the enemy. Seconds before the yellow light struck him in the face, a blue one flew over his left shoulder and met it, creating a beautiful shower of neon sparks. Michael passed through it as if nothing had happened at all. This exchange continued as the distance between them closed, Harry and Luna exchanging shots with the Death Eaters while Michael and Bellatrix did nothing but stare. By the time the two of them were a few feet apart, all her Death Eater allies had been dropped, although she did not seem especially fazed by this. Michael and Bellatrix stopped, almost close enough to reach out and touch one another. For a moment, they merely looked into each other’s eyes, Bellatrix’s wide and alive, Michael’s narrowed and cold. They could have been the only ones on the battlefield in that moment, in the entire world, but Michael was shortly reminded others were present.  
  
“Michael!”  
  
Luna and Harry had raced down the hill to join him. Both had their wands aimed at Bellatrix, whose smile became more pronounced as she looked upon the pair. Beyond Bellatrix, Michael could see Jeff and Sarah fighting as one against Lucius Malfoy while Hermione and Ron battled three other Death Eaters. Ron seemed injured and was using one of the stones as cover, popping out only when he was forced to to protect one of the others from a shot in the back.  
  
“Go help the others,” Michael said without taking his eyes off Bellatrix.  
  
“But –”  
  
“Come on, Harry,” Luna said quickly, not waiting for him, hurrying past Bellatrix, who made no attempt to stop her. With a frustrated look at Michael, Harry took off after her to rescue the faltering team. Michael inclined his head slightly at Luna’s back, glad to have her trust as she did his.  
  
Now finally alone, Bellatrix spoke for the first time.  
  
“That was rude, you know,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “I might have really wanted to see them too. You're not the only special one here, you know. In fact, compared to those two, you're nothing,” she spat, suddenly fierce.   
  
“I’ll show you nothing!” Michael snarled, his calm facade finally breaking. He ripped his wand across his chest, propelling a trio of silver lights forward at her. Bellatrix’s eyes widened and she rapidly brought up her own wand, shooting a quick spell to meet one of the silver balls, swatting away another with the tip of her wand, but failing to account for the third. It stuck her in the shoulder with a distinct thud very unusual for magic, shoving her backwards and spinning her to pivot on the side it had hit her. She finished her pirouette neatly however, landing on one knee and swiping her own wand at Michael, using the momentum for extra power. A jet of eternal fire sprung from her wand, leaving Michael no choice but to counter with,  
  
“ _Augamenti_!”  
  
The water struck the fire with the unreal hissing sound of steam as the streams pushed back and forth, Bellatrix raising slowly from one knee, now able to grip her shaking wand with a second hand while Michael struggled to hold on. He could feel the intense heat growing closer and even as they both sweat uncontrollably, Michael knew he was losing this exchange. Beyond them, their allies were still locked in battle with each other and Michael knew no help was coming. Desperate and beginning to feel his wand slip from his sweaty grasp, Michael did the only thing he could. Locating one near his right foot, he gave a massive effort in a final push and at the same time, kicked a small rock straight at her face.  
  
With a hiss to rival the sound of the steam, Bellatrix cut off her spell and sidestepped out of the way, the rock barely missing her head. Both she and Michael paused for a time, hunched and tired and panting. Bellatrix no longer was smiling.  
  
Michael was.  
  
This was exactly what he had wanted. This was why he had sent Harry and Luna on ahead, besides helping their friends. He had dreamt of this day for a long time, in much a different way than he had dreamt of reuniting with Luna.  
  
“Still nothing special, eh?” he taunted, flinching as he flexed his left hand. It was red and incredibly painful; Michael could only assume it had been burned by the superhot steam.  
  
“When compared to Potter and Lovegood?” Bellatrix laughed. “No, nothing.”  
  
Michael’s smile dropped.  
  
“Why do you know her name?” he demanded aggressively. He felt cold despite his burns. “Why?”  
  
“Now, that would be rude to discuss your little girlfriend while she’s not here, wouldn’t it?” Bellatrix asked playfully. “Why don’t you go get her, then we can talk?”  
  
“You're not going anywhere near Luna,” Michael said in a low voice, raising his wand again.  
  
Bellatrix copied him. “Then I suppose I’ll simply have to kill you and go see her myself!  _Avada Kedavra_!”  
  
Michael reacted immediately, Luna still on his mind. He pulled his wand upwards, bringing a thick slab of earth with it, erupting in time to block the Killing Curse. Continuing his wand movement, Michael drew it horizontally, sending the piece of rock and clay sliding towards Bellatrix, who promptly blasted through it with a fiercely powerful, “ _Bombardo_!”  
  
Michael could only bring up his left arm to shield his face from the flying debris, which Bellatrix came flying through like a demon, surely flying with some spell, for no human could move that way naturally. Shocking Michael so much that he actually gasped, she did not fire a spell at him, but rather grabbed him by the throat, only then beginning to bring her wand up to his face. Reacting instinctively, Michael grabbed for her wand arm with his left hand, only to find his grip fail as he yelled in pain from his burns. With no other options, Michael shifted his weight forward, succeeding in knocking himself off balance and taking her with him to the ground, where they landed side by side, each with the air knocked painfully out of them. The two of them laid there for a moment, taking back whatever oxygen they could before struggling back to their feet.  
  
“You want to talk about Luna, but for once, I don’t,” Michael panted. Bellatrix’s leer returned with a vengeance.  
  
“Ahh…Owen, then,” she asked softly. “I thought you might wonder how he was. He’s not happy about his hand, you know. And frankly…neither am I.”  
  
Setting aside the disgusting implications of what she had said, Michael raised a challenging voice. “Why isn't he here then, to do something about it? Is he hiding from me?”  
  
“No,” Bellatrix said with the same infuriating tone, “he and the Dark Lord were away when we received word of your location from our source. In their absence, I took it upon myself to lead this attack. Once I've killed you and captured Potter and the other –”  
  
“You’ll be his favorite again, is that it?” Michael said loudly.  
  
“You were his partner once too, if I recall,” Bellatrix replied. “And I don’t believe you were too terribly upset to see him go.”  
  
“With what he is now, I don’t feel the least bit bad,” Michael said coldly. “But before I knew, I was almost ruined by it. You turned him into what he is!” Michael yelled suddenly at her. He added a slashing motion with his wand to the end of his sentence; Bellatrix barely parried it.  
  
“I showed him what he could be,” Bella growled, not responding with another attack. Michael wondered if her magic reserves were almost empty – his certainly were. “I helped him realize his potential.”  
  
“His potential as a monster!” Michael shouted.  
  
“He  _is_ an excellent Dark Wizard,” Bellatrix said in a hushed voice. Michael actually took a step back, shocked by what he was hearing. The tone she had just used…he had only ever heard her use it when speaking of Voldemort.  
  
“It doesn’t matter,” Michael scowled. “After I deal with you, he’s next!”  
  
“Michael!”  
  
It was the same as last time. Luna had returned, calling his name. Bellatrix showed no fear, she didn’t even look away from Michael’s eyes as not only Luna, but Jeff and Sarah rushed up behind her.   
  
“We won,” she told Michael. She had a small cut on her right cheek, but other than that was unharmed. That made Michael relax a little, at last. “Harry and Ron are hurt, but they’ll be all right,” she went on, answering the question his expression was asking. “Hermione’s tending to them.”  
  
“And now we can tend to this bitch,” Sarah said venomously, moving to curse Bellatrix.  
  
“No!” Michael growled hoarsely, making Sarah start. She and Jeff looked at him with shock, but Luna only showed sympathy. Bellatrix was grinning widely now, a laugh just waiting to come out. Michael couldn’t wait to erase it. “She is  _mine_!” he coughed, desperation in his voice. He needed this. He had to be the one to do it, for what she had done to him. He had to have this revenge if he was to move on and defeat Owen…he had to kill the creature that had created him.  
  
Jeff and Sarah looked at each other with a mixture of fear and anger, but after a brief pause, backed a few steps away. Luna too removed herself from the dueling area, but rather than retreat she walked calmly between Michael and Bellatrix to position herself behind her boyfriend as a second would do in a gentlemen’s duel.  
  
There was no more finesse left in Michael, his next attack was a furious jab at Bellatrix, his incantation a grunt. Bellatrix defended herself in much the same way. This was a different kind of battle, and in truth, is was a slightly frightening one. Michael was a skilled enough Wizard to have experience in nonverbal duels, but this was different. This was not a concentrated, calculated effort to defeat the other with well timed spellwork or surprise attacks. This was two very angry people trying very hard to kill each other with whatever last effort of violence they were capable of unleashing on the other. He heard Sarah gasp as a spell sliced his right arm, but thankfully, she did not intervene as his own struck Bellatrix in the chest. While Michael held his arm close against his body to try and stop the bleeding, Bellatrix covered the ground in front of her with her own blood as she coughed violently.  
  
Another exchange, this time Michael was able to drop Bella to one knee with whatever effect his magic had. He no longer knew if his curses were cutting, bludgeoning, burning, or what, all he could do was keep throwing magic at her, even as a red light found his face. Michael grunted in agony as he felt like he had been hit in the head with a hammer. His brain felt addled and he began to lose vision in his left eye as it swell shut. As he staggered in place, he almost gave in, finally about to lose the power to stay on his own feet. He swayed, losing his balance again, beginning to fall backwards, only to find a pair of gentle hands around his arms, holding and supporting him. Michael slowly turned his head to look into Luna’s face.  
  
“I can beat her,” he choked. Through her tears, Luna very slowly nodded. She shut her eyes and brushed her cheek up against his. Michael allowed himself three seconds of this bliss with his angel before stumbling back out of Luna’s arms, back towards Bellatrix, who had also returned to a fighting stance. Her knees shook.  
  
“How sweet,” she cackled, a gurgling sound in her throat. She spat out more blood. “Is it fate, that the three of us are here like this? It’s too bad the others couldn’t join us.”  
  
“What the hell are you talking about?” Michael grimaced. It hurt so bad, all of it. His body, his mind, his soul. He couldn’t tell if he was winning this battle or losing it.  
  
“Jacobs,” she nodded towards Michael, “Lovegood…” she indicated Luna, “…and Black.” She dropped her head to symbolize herself. “All together again…I think it is fate, that one of us should die like this. Lovegood, it’s striking really, how similar you look to her. I don’t think you're like her though, your mother,” Bellatrix went on. “She, she was something. A blood traitor to rule them all. A force of nature. But you…disappoint. After all the effort I put in for you….”  
  
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Michael screamed suddenly, his voice tearing at his throat and splitting his own head. He was horrified by hearing this  _monster_ speak of Luna so, as if she  _knew_ her. She  _could_ not,  _would_ not.  
  
“It doesn’t matter right now,” Bellatrix shook her head. She raised her heavy eyes to Michael. “I've said too much, perhaps I'm growing sentimental as our battle ends. We’ve fought for so long Michael…I am tired. I am ready to finish this.”  
  
Michael readied his wand for this final exchange. He could feel the weight of Luna, Jeff, and Sarah’s eyes on him as he fought to stay upright, to keep his hand from shaking.   
  
 _Only a little more_ … _block out that little voice_... _the one that says, ‘stop the bleeding…ease the pain…lie down…give up…’_  
  
 _Silence it. Silence her._  
  
Michael gathered all his remaining magical energy into this last attack, pooling it on his wand tip, feeling his wand also shake under the stress and strain. He cocked back his arm to unleash the spell, but to his horror, Bellatrix seemed to have one final trick left. Dispelling the idea of any lack of magic, Bellatrix cried, “ _Crucio_!” grinning madly as the Torture Curse left her wand, flying…straight past Michael, at Luna.  
  
“No!”   
  
Michael called on every spare bit of adrenaline he had to allow him to move fast enough to fire his own spell, intercepting the curse meant for Luna. Time slowed as several things happened. Michael’s final spell battered the Cruciatus Curse away, exploding in a blinding light. Totally spent, Michael dropped to his knees, his world turning black despite his good eye remaining open. As he fell from his knees to his side, he heard Bellatrix begin to form the two words that would end his life.  
  
Before she even completed the first word, Michael heard both words screamed by someone else. Bellatrix’s head turned just in time to see the jet of green light streaking towards her, though her face still showed evil jubilation, instead of fear or anger.   
  
It struck her directly in between the eyes, and she fell, somehow beating Michael to the ground. Michael’s head hit the ground, counter intuitively restoring his sight. Despite the pain and the ache and the horror, something – perhaps simply his will to live – pulled him back to his feet. He could only stare wide eyed at Bellatrix’s body. Then, he turned around, very, very slowly and looked Luna in the face.  
  
Her eyes were huge and shining, her mouth still open. She seemed to want to cry out, but couldn’t. Her mouth moved silently, and she tilted her head slightly, looking for a moment very confused as to what had just happened. She dropped her wand, still staring straight into his eyes. Her lip trembled.   
  
There was no more pain, or soreness, or fear in Michael. He no longer had time for them, they weren’t important anymore. Something much, much more pressing required his full attention.  
  
As he rushed to her, his vision restored by his hearing oddly gone now, Michael realized what had just happened. She had not just killed Bellatrix…Luna had changed. She had changed from the quiet, odd girl who used to get called names by the other students into a powerful young witch deeply in love with the man who was now running toward her.   
  
Michael had to make her see this – it was the only way she’d make it through this.  
  
She fell into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. He shook his head sadly and rubbed her back as she buried her head in his chest.   
  
He could sense Jeff and Sarah leaving them and for this he was immensely grateful. This…was something private for them.   
  
It was eerie, really. Moments ago the air had been full of shouts and screams, curses and hexes, now the only sounds in the darkness were the heavy footsteps of Sarah and Jeff as they searched for the others, and Luna’s frenzied sobbing.   
  
Strangely, Michael found that he preferred the sounds of battle and fighting, of people trying to kill him, to hearing Luna crying. The second sound disturbed him far more than combat.  
  
“I killed her!” she whispered, muffled by Michael’s tight embrace, “I killed a woman…I don’t even know how it happened…she was about to kill you! And then I just…” She lost the power of speech again, and only gripped Michael tighter.   
  
“This is exactly what I was afraid of…” Michael mumbled, shutting his eyes so that she would not see the tears filling them. “I was worried about you, of course…but the thing I feared most was what would happen when the time came that you had to take a life…you…you aren't made for that kind of thing, Luna. It’s not in your nature. It’s completely against it.”   
  
“But I just reacted!” she moaned. “I didn’t even think! I saw her on top of you, and then I just moved…I killed….”   
  
“Luna, you haven't done anything wrong,” Michael said, stroking her hair. “And you – you should know…what you’re feeling is good…” he said, not really knowing how to explain what he meant.   
  
“What are you talking about?” she asked, freeing her head and looking up at him.   
  
“The way you feel right now,” he said, struggling to phrase it right, “is good. You are human, you feel regret and sorrow, you feel love…you should know…that you’re reacting the exact opposite of how I did the first time I killed someone. I shut down. I acted like it was nothing. I laughed along with everyone else in the Auror office when they poured me a congratulatory shot, even though I was underage. Kind of irrelevant, once you’ve killed someone, I guess.  
  
“The fact that you had to take a life is my greatest regret,” Michael said, and looking into his eyes, she believed him, “The fact that my failure caused you to do so is number two on that list, but that you regret doing so, even to an enemy, speaks so much about your character.”   
  
“When I killed for the first time, I didn’t feel the way you do,” he said quietly. “I felt strange, yes, but he was an enemy and a Death Eater, so I only knew a tiny amount of regret, and it vanished soon….”   
  
“So I'm weak?” Luna asked. “Because I feel wrong for murdering a person, even Bellatrix Lestrange?”   
  
“No! You’re stronger than me!” he shouted, furious she did not understand, “The fact that you killed and yet remained yourself is a miracle! You have just been through one of the most harrowing experiences a person’s soul can go through, and yet yours remains unchanged! Luna, I can tell. I can feel you…I don’t know if this is because of the experience we just went through in our minds, but I can  _feel_ you. You're still you. You're still…good.”   
  
“But what about you?” Luna asked. “You’ve killed before, but you’re a good person, an amazing person! It hasn’t changed you at all!”   
  
“Hasn’t it?” Michael asked her, not meeting her eyes anymore. “You can remember everything now…think back to when we were kids, am I really the same person you remember?”   
  
“No, you’re not,” Luna said, after thinking for a moment. “But that’s because you were only a boy when we parted ways. Since then you’ve become a man, but a good man! You’ve had to make choices, hard choices, a man’s choices. You’re not the little the boy I played with as a child anymore, but you’ve become the man I fell in love with on St. Lucia. This connection works both ways, I can feel you too.”   
  
“You are the most talented person I know,” Michael breathed.   
  
“Talented?” she repeated. “But in that battle it was you who –”  
  
“No, not fighting. Though you’re pretty good at that too. I meant how not only you assured yourself of your own spiritual strength, which I couldn’t do, but reassured me of who I am.”   
  
“We should go see the others…” Luna said, sniffing and wiping away the last tear marring her face, “Ron is Stunned and Harry got hit in the leg, it looked pretty bad. Hermione's working on him, but he might not walk right for a little while…. “   
  
“Lead on,” Michael said, and they followed Jeff and Sarah into the darkness, hand in hand, silently drawing strength from the other, the only thing they had left to draw on.   
  
As they walked, they passed a number of bodies, including Bellatrix’s. Luna seemed to have to look at it, but turned away quickly, back to Michael, whose hand squeezed hers.   
  
The protection of innocence was gone. Now they had only each other.


	21. Chapter 21: Life Starts Now

Michael was sitting in the hospital wing, talking quietly with Sarah and Luna. Harry was conscious now, and thanks to the quick actions of Hermione and Madame Pomfrey, was in no danger of permanent injury. Jeff was relaxing in a chair a little across the room; Hermione and Ron had gone off to spread a story explaining Harry’s grisly injury.  
  
 “But how could they have known where we were?” Sarah asked impatiently.  
  
“I don’t know…” Michael said, looking at Luna for help. “The only people who knew where we would be were us seven and Dumbledore….”   
  
“Actually no.” Severus Snape strode into the hospital wing, closely followed by Albus Dumbledore. “It would seem one of you let slip about your little outing.”   
  
Michael’s eyes widened. What the hell was  _Snape_ doing here? Dumbledore had told him he was in Azkaban….  
  
“None of us would talk!” Jeff shot at him, “Who are you trying to blame?” A canopy of anger hovered just above the group, very near their breaking point – though they had succeeded in their goal of recovering Luna’s memories, the fact that they had been ambushed, seriously injured, and were now responsible for several deaths somewhat damped their success.   
  
“Well,” Luna said, looking nervous and ashamed, “I told Malfoy two nights ago that I was going somewhere, but I never said where!”   
  
“Actually, it  _was_  Mr. Malfoy who informed the Death Eaters of your plans,” Snape said, staring contemptuously at Michael.   
  
“Don’t you dare try to blame her!” Michael snarled at Snape, who smirked back at him.   
  
“Ah, I can see I hit a nerve there, Jacobs…but no, Miss Lovegood’s error is not the source of all this. It is yours.”   
  
“Mine?” he repeated. “How would they find out from me?”   
  
“You see, after your attack on Draco and his friends –”   
  
“They attacked Luna!” Jeff said angrily. “Michael and Harry were just helping her out…not that you couldn’t handle them anyway,” he added to Luna with unusual politeness.  
  
“After the attack,” Snape continued, ignoring Jeff, “apparently you two had a conversation with Professor Dumbledore about your plans. You had this conversation while standing over what you believed to be the unconscious forms of Draco and the others.”   
  
“You mean he was awake?” Harry asked, leering at Snape.  
  
“Wait,” Michael said sharply, suddenly horrified. “Professor,” he turned to Dumbledore, “we were talking about Luna’s past. Does that mean Malfoy heard that too?”   
  
“No, the details of your deeply interesting love affair remains your secret,” Snape jeered, “Draco was still fighting the effects of Lovegood’s curse, and he was drifting in and out of consciousness. He has no idea you betrayed your organization, Jacobs. If he did, they would know – STRIKE is very good at killing people, aren’t they?” For a moment, Michael thought Snape’s eyes had shifted to Luna, but then he was staring at him again, and Michael's fists unclenched.  
  
“Yeah,” Michael said shortly. “We are.”  
  
“How do you know all this anyway?” asked Harry from his bed, glaring at him suspiciously, “Aren’t you supposed to be in jail?”   
  
“Surely you can piece that together,” Snape said disdainfully. “You saw Lucius in your battle as well, did you not? He was also incarcerated with me. The Dark Lord freed us yesterday evening.”  
  
“He took Azkaban?” Sarah yelped. She looked desperately at Michael. “How did we not know? Why didn’t STRIKE tell us?”  
  
“Maybe they're keeping things from us as well,” Jeff answered for him. Michael nodded.   
  
“So what about Malfoy?” Michael asked, beyond irritated now. “What are we doing about him?”   
  
“He has gone on the run, to the Dark Lord, fearing your retribution.”   
  
“He’s right to,” Michael said darkly, “I swear if I find him….” This was Malfoy’s fault, he told himself defiantly. It was his fault Luna had been forced to kill Bellatrix. It had to be his fault.  
  
“It’s likely you will,” Snape said unconcernedly. “He has gained much favor with the Dark Lord for this, and as such will be given new, more dangerous missions.”   
  
“What about you?” Jeff asked. “Going to follow Malfoy back to Voldemort?”   
  
“No, Mr. Allero,” Dumbledore said, before Snape could respond, “The breakout has been hushed up, and few know that the Death Eaters have escaped. We will tell everyone that I finally was able to arrange Severus’ release, and he will be returning to teach Defense.”   
  
“And the Aurors?” Sarah asked. “What about the Minister? Won't he just lock Snape up again?”  
  
“My protection will be sufficient to cover Severus, at least for a time,” Dumbledore said sharply. “The Minister has many other pressing issues – he will not seek a protracted fight with me over my Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” His clipped voice and conviction compelled Michael to believe him.  
  
“If he does, he’ll be facing two Wizards,” Michael said steadily. Dumbledore did not argue with him this time. Snape made a small growling noise.  
  
 Finally, Luna spoke.  
  
“Michael didn’t want to fight you,” she said dreamily to Snape, who narrowed his eyes at his student. “He really didn’t,” she went on, patting her knees with her hands alternatively. “I know he offered the duel – he does that sometimes – but you made it into a fight, Professor.” Luna continued to smack her knees absentmindedly, looking at Snape for a response. Michael tried hard not to smirk – her tone wasn’t accusatory, but Luna’s blank stare could really unnerve and disarm even people like Severus Snape. He seemed to decide Luna wasn’t worth replying to. She took no offense at this. “I will say though, I’m glad you're back to teaching Defense class. All your experience with Dark Magic and Voldemort himself makes you very qualified to teach these kind of things.” Michael thought it was rather unfair that Harry, behind Snape’s back, had to make no effort to hide his pleasure at Luna’s dismantling of the former Death Eater.  
  
“Hope he does a better job this time…” Jeff muttered, as polite as ever.   
  
“Jeff, shut up,” Michael said, looking Snape in the face, “That was my fault. I was trying to prove something, and it got out of hand. And,” he took a deep breath, “and I apologize.” He held out his hand to Snape, who stared at it coldly.   
  
“You can apologize, Jacobs,” he snarled at him, “after you spend a month in Azkaban!” He actually spit on the ground at Michael’s feet and stormed from the room. Michael watched him go, his outstretched hand now curled into a fist. He was about to ask Dumbledore’s real opinion on Snape, but was interrupted.  
  
“You all right?” Michael asked sharply as Harry gave a yell of pain. “Is it your leg?”   
  
“No, scar.” He shut his eyes tight, allowing himself to enter Voldemort’s mind. “You might want to come too,” he added to Michael, who nodded and drew his wand.   
  
“ _Legilimens_!”   
  
He and Harry hurdled through blackness together, landing in the same dark room as the last time Michael had joined Harry for a trip into the Dark Lord’s mind. This time Voldemort was standing with Owen at his side. Kneeling before him was the Lacerte leader who Michael had dueled with in the temple.   
  
Owen seemed to have replaced the hand he had lost, though he wore a black glove over the new one. He was flexing it and looking at it interestedly, ignoring the Lacerte to whom Voldemort was speaking. Owen’s hood was removed and for the first time in a year, Michael saw the face of the man who he hated so. He had…changed. He had the same slightly long, wild black hair and the same expression of boredom, but now he was…different. His skin was paler than Michael remembered, contrasting oddly with his dark hair and eyes. His eyes were different too – there was something in them Michael couldn’t help but be unnerved by. It was almost as if they were only a façade, a set of human eyes behind which an animal – a monster – lurked.  
  
“So, Cruxien, will you accept my offer?” Voldemort asked, considering the lizard man.   
  
The lizard creature glanced at Stetnas, who was looking around the room, bored. He at last noticed Cruxien’s gaze on him, frowned, snorted, and gave a small shrug. “Your terms are acceptable,. The Lacerte will add their strength to yours, and we will crush the humans who oppose us!”   
  
“Yes, we will,” Voldemort said, sounding slightly amused at his speech. “You will aid my Death Eaters, what remains of them anyway, to hunt down the children who escaped your temple. In return, I will do everything in my power to return the Ring of your master to you.”   
  
The creature nodded and vanished without drawing the wand on his belt. Owen turned to Voldemort, looking coldly aggravated.   
  
“Is it really necessary to ally ourselves with these things?” he asked contemptuously. “They fucking smell. Plus I’m pretty sure they’ll eventually realize the Ring is destroyed – I mean, there’s no way Michael and Potter kept it. They're morons.”   
  
“Yes, I'm afraid it is necessary, Stetnas,” Voldemort said, though he too sounded displeased at the arrangement. “Since forces from STRIKE began to interfere in this war, I have lost nearly half my Death Eaters. I had hoped that you alone would suffice, but in light of recent events, I believe it is time to recruit some new help.”   
  
“You mean Bellatrix’s death,” Owen said, his tone dropping all ambivalence. He crossed his arms. “What are we going to do about that?”  
  
“I have yet to decide,” Voldemort said coolly.   
  
“Send me to kill him,” Owen said loudly, a mixture of murder and desperation in his voice. “Let me go after him and take one of theirs. It’s only fair.”  
  
Voldemort shook his head slightly. “You place blame on the wrong half of the couple. Michael Jacobs did not kill Bellatrix. His partner did.”   
  
“She killed to save him?” Owen said quietly. “She killed Bellatrix...for him?”   
  
“Yes indeed,” Voldemort said, “I am considering retracing my earlier offer, and ordering you to simply kill the girl now. I don’t think it matters much to you anymore, I doubt she would take too kindly to you if you were to murder her boyfriend.”   
  
“She’s  _mine_!” Owen hissed, his eyes now wide and filled with malice. “Michael doesn’t deserve someone like her, not after what he did.”   
  
“If you plan to act against them,” Voldemort said, “I would advise you to allow a few Lacerte to join you. Those children have become more of an irritation than I originally imagined…powerful as you are, don't waste your skills by allowing arrogance to undo you.”   
  
“I don’t need them!” Owen said angrily, “I can handle this on my own! I would have had them back on the island if Luna hadn’t gotten in the way!”   
  
“But surely you see the problem?”Voldemort asked. “The factor that changes the entire equation when considering an attack on them?”   
  
“What exactly would that be?”   
  
“Jacobs. You will notice that both times my forces have engaged their group, Jacobs has been weak and exhausted. This is not a coincidence. Even in this condition, he was able to join with his friends and defeat my Death Eaters and yourself.   
  
“He will not be so careless in the future; we will not be able to catch him off guard again. He will be motivated by the attack last night, and will double their training. I believe the only way you can hope to attack Michael Jacobs is indirectly.”   
  
“What are you talking about?” Owen growled, “I’m far more powerful than him or Potter or Lovegood!”   
  
“But it is not him alone that you face, or simply any of them,” Voldemort said quietly. “If you get a opportunity to attack any of them individually, by all means, slaughter them. I do not doubt you would kill Michael Jacobs in single combat. But I find this unlikely. His friends, while not of your caliber, are still a threat. But they are also a weakness.”   
  
“Which one should I go after?” Owen asked, catching on to what Voldemort was saying.  
  
“Lovegood. I care little for what you do with her, so long as she remains alive. If we can take her, Jacobs will come after her whatever the cost, and you will have your chance.”   
  
“A hostage…” he said, considering the idea. “That could work, Michael would be stupid enough to come after her….”   
  
“Then it is settled. They will lose Lovegood, and then they will lose Jacobs. His friends will likely come after you for vengeance – I trust you can handle them. That leaves only Potter and his friends…they will be lost soon as well.”   
  
“And with them, the war itself.”   
  
“Indeed,” Voldemort nodded. But then he frowned. “You are aware,” he said at last, “that Bellatrix is not the only member of the Lestrange family we have lost recently.”  
  
Owen eye’s grew wide, as did his complacent smile.  
  
“No, she isn't, is she?”  
  
Voldemort clasped his hands in front of him. “Did you have something to do with the death of Rodolphus Lestrange?”  
  
“I might have subtly made a few changes to his living arrangements,” Owen admitted, his tone like a child caught sneaking cookies. He rocked back and forth on his feet.  
  
When Voldemort spoke again, it was with the same slow, deliberate cadence that made it seem as if Severus Snape was perpetually amazed by the stupidity of those around him.  
  
“You chopped off his head.”  
  
“Yeah,” Owen agreed, nodding. “Subtle.”  
  
“You do not have the right to murder my Death Eaters at will,” Voldemort said, his fury only kept at bay by the part of him that couldn’t help but be impressed.  
  
“Oh come on,” Owen said, throwing up his hands indignantly. “You’ve killed them for much less than fucking your favorite lieutenant!”  
  
“He was her husband,” Voldemort pointed out icily.  
  
“He was an oaf,” Owen retorted with a bit of a snap. Owen didn’t enjoy being spoken of in the same breath as the lesser man. “A brute. You lost a thug and gained me in return. If that isn't acceptable to you, it’s nothing but damn nepotism.”  
  
“My Death Eaters are rewarded for their service,” Voldemort said, cold as death.  
  
“No, you reward them for time served,” Owen countered. “Lestrange had somehow accomplished the feat of not being killed by the Aurors or STRIKE for however long. That isn't an accomplishment. I brought you the Lacerte and have eliminated more Aurors in the last year than he ever saw in his life. And besides!” Owen added, flaring up eagerly, “if you really miss Lestrange’s knuckle dragging so much, make him a damn Inferius! He might actually gain some brains! Think about it, you can send him on all the jobs he used to be too stupid for, like picking up groceries, cleaning the bathrooms, and providing Malfoy’s kid with reassuring hugs.”  
  
“You speak as though you are above my Death Eaters,” Voldemort replied.  
  
Owen laughed. “Of course I am! Could any of them get away with talking to you the way I do? Could any of them  _decapitate_ a member of one of the oldest Pureblood families and live? Of course not! But you let me act as I do because you want me on your side. And really, you don’t even tolerate it. You like it. Admit it, you enjoy having someone  around who is – nearly – an equal.”  
  
“You presume much.”  
  
“I merely cut through the forest to reach a clearing on which we might find some common ground,” Owen replied without hesitation. “I'm not a fool. I'm a madman. That’s the difference between me and the majority of your – former – associates. Bellatrix could’ve been more…but she was limited.” Owen made a face as if he found this admission particularly unpleasant. “She was a good servant, but you need more than that. You can't beat the Aurors, STRIKE, Dumbledore, and Michael’s gang with servants.”  
  
“They really are pathetic, aren’t they?” asked a vague voice.   
  
Michael and Harry turned in shock. Luna was standing next to them, watching the scene with no attempt to hide her disgust.   
  
“Luna!” Michael said, “How long have you been here?”   
  
“Pretty much the whole time,” she replied, not taking her eyes of off Owen. “I thought I’d give it a try, Legilimency, and I landed here beside you two.   
  
“Do they really think they can just take me away in the night?” she asked Michael and Harry.”If that’s how they see me, then some things definitely need to change…it’s not just Professor Snape is it? They all think I’m a weakness, don't they? How can they believe that?”   
  
She looked fierce and furious, similar to her wolf form. Her eyes sizzled as she paced before the two of them. Harry looked slightly scared and surprised, but Michael was grinning widely and listening to her happily. Luna was really working herself up in a way Michael had never seen before – he wondered if she might yell. He thought it might be interesting to see when it wasn’t directed at him.  
  
“I mean,” Luna was breathing heavily, her voice rising to an almost comical pitch, despite her furious face, “I always thought Lord Voldemort was  _intelligent_! Deranged and diabolical and with a soul darker than the Void, but still intelligent. He really thinks that boy can steal me? Maybe he’s actually gone mad…” Luna trailed off thoughtfully. “But he is right about one thing,” she said, turning to Michael, “we are going to increase our training.”   
  
“We are?” Michael raised a challenging eyebrow at her.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
She was breathing quickly, her chest heaving. Michael was staring at her, looking as if Christmas had come early. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Between Snape and Stetnas, I think you’ve hit your quota for threats and antagonism for the year.”  
  
With that Harry left Voldemort’s mind, taking Michael and Luna with him.   
  
The return to a physical world seemed to calm Luna a little, she looked far less angry, now simply put-off. She sighed with such weight that Harry and Sarah traded worried glances – Luna might have been off-the-wall and downright dreamy, always apt to surprise with a diagnosis or suspicion, but she was almost always reliable to remain upbeat and peppy. But Michael understood. Beneath the dirty hair, placid smile, and odd remarks, Luna was still a seventeen year old girl – one who had just taken a life for the first time.   
  
“I suppose they think of me as a whore, too,” Luna added after a moment, her mouth scrunched up on the right side of her face.   
  
“Lord Voldemort likely cares far more about your entrance into his plans than into each others’ beds,” Dumbledore said lightly. There was a stunned silence – Michael felt this declaration had been Dumbledore’s way of reminding them he was there, but couldn’t help snorting and spluttering along with everyone else at the Headmaster’s remark.  
  
“He is a sick man, Professor,” Jeff chuckled.   
  
“I agree,” Dumbledore replied with a sudden seriousness. He turned his attention to Luna. “Miss Lovegood, did the spell work?”  
  
“Yes, I remember everything,” Luna said, brushing her hair out of her face. “Michael put my memories right, but it weakened him a lot, then Draco Malfoy set the Death Eaters on us....”   
  
“We’ll find him,” Michael assured her, “and Owen too. Now he’s got to worry about not only me, but you too. I don’t think I’d like to be in his shoes right now.”   
  
“Maybe I should bait myself…” Luna said, mostly to herself, “I could draw him –”   
  
“Luna, you're smarter than that,” Harry said firmly, crossing his arms defiantly at her. Michael felt very grateful to him just then.  
  
“No, not now,” Michael agreed firmly, “Voldemort's an idiot for thinking you’re weak, and I guarantee you it will cost him, but you still can't beat Owen alone, I'm not sure if even I could. Not yet at least. We’re safe here, together, and with Dumbledore.” He nodded at the old headmaster. “We’re not ready to take on Stetnas or Voldemort – but when the time comes, we will be.”   
  
“Then teach me,” she said. “The power of the Stones already helped a lot, if you just show me how to use it, I can beat him, I know it.”   
  
“ _We_  can beat him,” Michael corrected her. “But yes, we’re going to step it up a bit from now on, especially if we have to fight the Lacerte too along with Voldemort and his assassins…they won't know what hit them.”   
  
“We can do it,” Luna repeated, finally calming down. “Not just you, both of us, all of us. They can think of me as only your girlfriend – it is a nice title to have – but it’s a dramatic understatement of what I can do.”  
  
There was a pause.  
  
“What the hell are you talking about?” Sarah burst out. “You three jump into Voldemort’s mind and come back telling about whores and assassins? What the hell is he thinking about?”   
  
Michael laughed again. “His mind is more warped than mine, if you can believe it.”  
  
“I can't,” Sarah responded, with a bit of awe in her voice. Jeff and Harry laughed at that.   
  
“Hey,” Michael said suddenly, and Sarah seemed to think Michael was addressing her. He shook his head. “Can I have a minute alone with Harry?”  
  
The entire group – Dumbledore included – looked at him in surprise, but eventually all assented and filed out of the hospital wing. Luna fell in beside Professor Dumbledore, apparently keen to discuss with him the proper term to use to describe a transgender Mermaid or Merman. Sarah and Jeff left holding hands.  
  
Michael sat down heavily in the chair next to Harry’s bed and rubbed the back of his neck, not sure how to begin to say what he needed to. Harry decided to prompt him.  
  
“Something wrong?” Harry asked, looking concerned.   
  
“Harry, did you kill anyone in that last battle?” Michael asked, his eyes shut.  
  
“No, I didn’t,” Harry responded quickly. Then he hesitated. “I…came close. I think one of my spells badly injured a Death Eater, but I didn’t use the Killing Curse.”  
  
Michael nodded, his eyes still closed. He took another breath, raised his head and opened his eyes. “Harry, I'm sorry I've been a bad friend.”  
  
Harry flinched as if Michael had punched him. “What are you talking about?” he asked immediately. “You haven't been a bad friend.”  
  
“Yes I have,” Michael replied, smirking ruefully. “I've done nothing but ask things of you and given you nothing in return.”  
  
“You taught me to fight,” Harry protested. He raised himself up a bit. “Not to just survive and run, but to fight.”  
  
“And look where that got you,” Michael countered, gesturing at Harry’s mangled leg. “You were hurt using techniques I taught you on a trip to help my girlfriend. After you fought my archenemy on an island I brought you to because I needed Ron’s help. I’ve been a shitty friend, man. No need to deny it.”  
  
“I took on all those risks willingly,” Harry said stubbornly. “I would be fighting Voldemort and his Death Eaters even if you had never come around. That’s always been clear.”  
  
“Then what about the things you didn’t let happen willingly?” Michael persisted. “Fuck, Harry, my organization has kept Sirius away from you for months! And I’ve let them, because I was worried about putting any scrutiny on myself!”  
  
Harry said nothing and looked away from Michael. Michael shook his head. “See, I knew it was on your mind. And yet you’ve said nothing to me about it.”  
  
“I know you can't do anything about it,” Harry muttered at the wall. “You told me Sirius was out of your control and your leader was directing him.”  
  
“He was,” Michael crossed his arms. “As the head of STRIKE, he’s entitled…but it’s still very unusual for Staffon to hijack a Captain’s agents. I was called on to give a report on what had happened at Stonehenge last night and in between dodging questions that might involve Luna, Staffon let slip about Sirius. He’s been using him as a spy up north, working alone and utilizing his Animagus form to keep tabs on Death Eater activity there.” Michael paused and then, finally, he smiled. “He’s now in London, keeping tabs on another group.”  
  
“Who now?” Harry asked, turning back to Michael, a weary worry in his voice. “Owen Stetnas?”  
  
“Nah,” Michael replied. “The Order of the Phoenix.”  
  
“The Order?” Harry repeated, shocked. Michael’s grin became wider.  
  
“Exactly. I suggested it to Staffon earlier this morning. I convinced him that with the massive casualties the Death Eaters had taken last night…especially the loss of Bellatrix…Staffon could pull Sirius away. Frankly, there aren't a lot of low level Death Eaters left to spy on and Staffon knows better than to try and have him fool Wizards like Voldemort or Owen. So instead, I persuaded our General to make Sirius the…” he rubbed the back of his neck, “…official liaison between STRIKE and Phoenix groups, I think the full title is. Basically, Harry, Sirius is back home. He’s still technically working with STRIKE but…he’s free.”  
  
“Free,” Harry repeated numbly. “Why didn’t Dumbledore –?”  
  
“Dumbledore doesn’t know yet,” Michael told him. “I wanted it to be a surprise for you, to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I mean, you’ve got enough going on with the whole Chosen One thing. You didn’t need to help me and Luna too.”  
  
“She’s my friend as well,” Harry answered, raising his eyebrows a little at the air quotes Michael sketched around the phrase ‘Chosen One.’  
  
“True,” Michael laughed, pushing himself up off the bed. He swayed a little on his feet. “Dammit,” he muttered, “I’m still a little woozy from the duel.”  
  
“You’re pretty torn up,” Harry noted. Michael shrugged.  
  
“It’s not really that, although I can't say these injuries feel great. It’s more the magical energy I had to use fighting that woman. I can't believe –”  
  
“You did beat her,” Harry said firmly. “You had her down until she targeted Luna.”  
  
“Yeah,” Michael sighed heavily. “I won't be doing that again. It’s pretty fucked up, isn't it? I do all this to keep Luna out of the fight with Bellatrix, and then because of it she ends up having to kill to save my skin.”  
  
“Imagine if Luna had joined you in that duel though,” Harry said. “You two would’ve handled Bellatrix in no time.”  
  
Michael nodded. “Yeah, but she’s in the past now. I'm trying not to dwell on it because I know Luna isn't. And I'm still bound by another promise I made on our vacation.”  
  
“To Luna?”  
  
“No, Jeff,” Michael chuckled. “No more angst. We’re going to move on, we’re going to keep fighting. Bellatrix was a great Witch, magically at least, but she’s nothing compared to Voldemort or Owen. If we come up against them, it’s going to take at least four of us to beat either of them in our current state.”  
  
“So we get better then,” Harry said seriously.   
  
“Exactly,” Michael gave him a brief thumbs up. He rolled his head around his shoulders. “For now though, I think I’m going to find Luna and…have a nap.”  
  
“A nap?” Harry questioned skeptically. Michael laughed again.  
  
“Right now, that’s about all I’ve got the energy for. I’m going to get going, but before I do, I wanted to thank you again for being such a good friend.”  
  
“I’ll always be on your side,” Harry assured him. Michael bowed his head.  
  
“And I’ll always be on yours, Harry. Now then....” He suddenly drew his wand and aimed it down the ward, towards the door out. “ _Expecto Patronum_!”  
  
“What are you doing?” Harry asked blankly, pushing himself up a little more.  
  
“Nearly killing myself,” Michael scoffed, jamming his wand carelessly back into his pocket. “See you, man. Don’t try and jump up or anything.”  
  
“I don’t think I’ll be jumping anywhere any time soon,” Harry said grimly. Michael had already turned his back on him and was walked towards the door, one hand stuffed in his pocket. He raised his right in goodbye.  
  
“Don’t be so sure.”  
  
The door swung open before Michael reached it. Michael was nearly thrown aside by the man rushing inside, who hastily came to a stop beside him, facing the opposite direction.  
  
“Captain,” he said after a second’s pause.  
  
“Sirius,” Michael acknowledged lazily, grinning and dropping his hand as he passed by the man without another word. As he moved through the door, he could’ve sworn he heard a loud grunt of pain just before the door shut.  
  
Well, he  _had_  warned him not to jump up too fast.  
  
 ******************************************************************************  
  
Harry was released from the hospital wing a day later, though he had to use a crutch to aid him in walking. Most of his calf muscle had been destroyed and while it had been healed, it would be a while before he could move regularly or run again. Michael had never seen him so chipper, however, and finally felt as though he had contributed evenly in their friendship by reuniting Harry with his godfather.  
  
Around half of the Death Eaters had been rounded up by the Aurors, a few in body bags. The other half, which Luna was infuriated to know included Lucius Malfoy, had escaped back to the “safety” of their Lord. How safe they really were after their repeated poor performances was subject to debate. When news broke that Bellatrix Lestrange was among the dead, a great wave of relief and vindication spread amongst the Gryffindor students, as well as Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Hermione recounted to Michael the story of what had happened to Neville’s parents and expressed a desire to talk to him about the fight, but Michael resolutely refused – it was hard enough keeping their operations low profile as it was.   
  
It wasn’t simply a matter of keeping the public and Hogwarts students in the dark; STRIKE had to be carefully fed a stream of misinformation to prevent them from discovering what Michael had done. He knew it was only a matter of time, but every moment he delayed was a blessing. Michael hadn’t had much time to prepare a false story for STRIKE on precisely what they were doing when they had been attacked by the horde of Death Eaters, but overall he was mostly thankful none of them had been able to identify Luna as present thanks to the darkness. STRIKE had a number of people within the Ministry, but Michael always considered the Infiltration Division of STRIKE to be the poorest of the five. None of the Death Eaters gave any testimony that would place Luna at the scene. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been named, but Dumbledore had again covered for the group, concocting a story of off-campus study and an incidental Death Eater attack that, while somewhat flimsy, was enough to deflect suspicion from Michael, Jeff, and Sarah.   
  
Michael – not a academic by nature – couldn’t miss the irony in that the most work he had put in to covert operations in his time as Special Forces Captain was to keep information from STRIKE itself.  
  
Defense Against the Dark Arts became an ugly affair almost every day, as Snape would violently shout and curse at Michael for the littlest things, still resolute in his belief that it was his fault he had been sent to Azkaban. Michael eventually just stopped coming to class altogether, something Snape never commented on.   
  
He instead arranged that he would transfer into Luna’s seventh year Transfiguration class, which was slightly more challenging. The move pleased Michael in two ways: Not only did he get to spend extra time with his girlfriend, but he found he actually learned a few useful things, as he had never attended his seventh year at Salem.   
  
The seven teens now spent almost every evening in the Room of Requirement, training hard to get up to scratch, and to make use of the new powers they had gained from Stonehenge. Everything Luna did, she did ferociously. Whether practicing wand work with Sarah or fencing with Jeff, she gave it her all, determined to prove herself.   
  
All in all, Michael thought that it was rather funny. The entire reason for her rapidly increasing power was, after all, something that an enemy had said. But it was a week after the battle at Stonehenge when Luna finally said something which gave Michael pause.  
  
“I wanted to ask you something,” Luna said to Michael, turned on her side and pressed up against him, one of his arms around her shoulders as they lay in bed together, dressed, but only in pajamas. The Gryffindor dormitory was empty – Harry and Ron needed no telling to give the couple their space and the other Sixth Year boys had learned quickly enough as well, either through warning or unfortunate experience.  
  
“Yeah?” Michael asked drowsily. They hadn't intended to become this comfortable or come so close to sleep, but the chilly weather made their warm bed very inviting, as well as the simple pleasures of such closeness.  
  
“It’s about my mother,” Luna went on. Michael nodded silently. “I wanted to ask you about the day she died.”  
  
Michael rolled over to face her; they were so close their noses almost touched. Luna closed the remaining distanced and placed her forehead against his.  
  
“What did you want to know?” Michael asked slowly. “I mean…well, you remember it all now.”  
  
“I only remember what I saw,” Luna said softly. “I didn’t see the fight. Mum realized they were coming before they arrived, I think. She tried to Apparate away with Dad and I.” Michael moved his head slightly against hers. He knew all this. He had read the report. “When she realized it was impossible, she told Dad to take me inside and wait for her. She didn’t seem worried at all…but she wasn’t like I had ever seen her, either. She was suddenly so powerful. I was a little scared, not because I knew who was coming, but because Mum was projecting so much power. We hurried inside – I wanted to see what Mum was doing, but Dad wouldn’t let me near the windows.” She raised her head a little and looked at him with her wide eyes. “Now, I can see how nervous Daddy was. But I didn’t notice a thing at the time. We just went to his big chair and he sat down and put me on his lap. He took out his wand and set it down on the table next to him and he started telling me stories.” She smiled. “That was the first time I ever heard of the Crumple Horned Snorkack.  
  
“Then the noises started. Dad kept trying to talk louder and louder so I wouldn’t hear them,” Luna said easily, “but I think I knew, even then that I was hearing my Mum fight. For her, for Dad, and for me. Mum was going to win, I already knew, but as the minutes went on I started to get a little worried. And then, finally, there was silence. No more spells, shouts, or explosions. I wanted to go see her, of course, but Dad said we had to wait for her to come get us. I didn’t listen – I ran outside to go find Mum.”  
  
“And that’s when you lost your memories,” Michael said quietly.  
  
“No,” Luna corrected him. “Mum was there, her back was to me. She was standing straight up, but I could tell she was hurt. I called out to her and when she turned around, it was the only time in my entire life I had ever seen Mum scared. She told me to go back inside, she screamed for Dad, but it was too late. I had already seen. There were bodies all over the lawn, all in black cloaks, some of their faces hidden, some not. They were all dead. And  _then_ , that’s when it happened. Mum saw it coming.   
  
“Something rippled in the air a little ways way from me and then, before I knew what was happening, a man was there, a man in a cloak. He raised his wand and yelled in a deep voice. I remember seeing that burst of bright white light, the brightest I had ever seen, and I remember Mum screaming her own spell, and I heard her running, and then nothing. When I woke up, I was home, with Dad. That was the first time he lied to me – he told me Mum had been in an accident. One of her spells had gone wrong. He told me we were going to move away.”  
  
“He was only trying to protect you,” Michael told her steadily, reaching up and twisting a few strands of her hair around his finger. Luna nodded.  
  
“I know, that’s not what I wanted to ask you about. Michael, how many men did my mother defeat that day?”  
  
“Five,” Michael told her. “She took down five Dark Wizards at once, good ones, although the report never mentions their affiliation or what their goal was, if they had one besides killing Elysina.”  
  
Luna shut her eyes. “When I went outside to find Mum, there were already five men on the ground. All those men were dead.”  
  
Michael went cold. “But…Luna, are you saying –?”  
  
“That the man who killed my mother and destroyed my mind didn’t die there,” Luna said very softly. “His body wasn’t there when STRIKE arrived to collect the dead and bring me to General Staffon.”  
  
“He can't have survived,” Michael shook his head. “If the curse was enough to kill a Witch like your mother, there’s no way he could’ve endured it.”  
  
“Unless he was more powerful than my mother,” Luna postulated, looking back at him.  
  
“Impossible,” Michael said immediately. “The only people I’ve ever heard of being able to hold a candle to your Mom are Dumbledore, Staffon, and Voldemort himself.”  
  
“If he did die, why didn’t they recover a body?” Luna asked.  
  
“Unless…”   
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Unless the report STRIKE archived on your mother’s death was deliberately inaccurate,” Michael said with a feeling of horrified realization. Luna closed her eyes again and repositioned herself to lay her head on his chest. Michael instantly placed an arm across her.  
  
“Michael?”  
  
“Mmmh?”  
  
“Do you think the other boys will mind if I stay here with you tonight?”  
  
“Not at all.”  
  
With his free hand, Michael picked up his wand and performed three charms. A Sticking Spell was used to fasten down the curtains of his bed, a Blackout Charm tinted them dark enough so that they were invisible to the outside world, and finally he cast the  _Muffiliato_ spell Harry had shown him from the book Hermione so detested. With that, he laid his wand next to him, nestled his chin more comfortably onto the top of Luna’s head, and shut his eyes. Despite this incredibly calm and pleasant position, Michael’s mind couldn’t rest yet.  
  
What was STRIKE hiding from him?  
  
******************  
  
As November gave way to December, six of the teens began to relax and wind down. Christmas would come soon, and they had had no word of any Death Eater or Lacerte attacks since the one on themselves at Stonehenge. Luna, however, fought ever harder, and a week before the break, finally managed to defeat Ron and Hermione at the same time.   
  
“Bloody hell,” Ron grumbled as he got back to his feet, shaking his arm where Luna’s spell had hit him, “Your spellcasting has never been that fast, when did that happen?”   
  
“You really have changed,” Hermione said, massaging her leg, “I bet you could even do some damage to Michael now.” She gestured with her wand across the room at Michael, who had been sword fighting with Jeff, and would have separated his head from his body, were they using real swords.   
  
“Uch, dammit, screw you!” Jeff coughed, rubbing his neck. Michael snickered and let his sword drop, leaning lightly on it. Jeff didn’t seem nearly as amused. “Just because these things are blunted doesn’t mean you have to hit me in the fucking throat.”  
  
“Well…” Michael said delicately, “maybe if you were paying attention to me and not Sarah, you wouldn’t be decapitated.” He jerked his head behind him, where Sarah and the finally healed Harry were racing Patronuses.   
  
Jeff scowled. “Don't get your feelings hurt. I wasn’t watchingher.”  
  
“Fine. If you were paying attention to me and not  _leering_ at –”  
  
“I was not!” Jeff said forcefully, waving the pointed end of his sword at Michael.   
  
Michael batted it away, smirking. “There’s nothing wrong with liking Sarah. She’s great. Why not?”  
  
“I don't like her,” Jeff said stubbornly. He mirrored Michael's smirk. “I like her ass.”  
  
“Well, of course,” Michael said fairly, with a small shrug. “It is a wonderful ass.” Jeff’s smile dropped and he made a sound that was a mixture of a growl and a sigh. Michael grinned and put his free hand on Jeff’s shoulder. “Checkmate.” Jeff rolled his eyes. Michael shrugged again. “Don't worry about it, no reason to force that kind of thing.” He paused and fell silent.  
  
“Err…yeah. Thanks. You okay?” Jeff asked slowly.  
  
Michael shook his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine.” He pulled his hand from his friend’s shoulder. “Do whatever feels right and fun – leave the crazy shit to Luna and I. And besides, you're nowhere near as bad as Ron and Hermione. I’ve been trying to convince Harry to let me slip them Amortentia, but  _no_. Says it’s too hard to brew.”  
  
“Michael!”   
  
He turned to face Luna, Hermione, and Ron. Hermione was waving her hand at him to join them. He threw aside his sword and walked over to join them. “Yeah?”   
  
“Luna just took the pair of us out,” Ron told him, still breathing a little heavily. Michael raised his eyebrows.   
  
“Pretty good Luna. But I don't give out gold stars for that – I only trade those for other things.” The wink he unleashed was of a sufficient silliness that she knew not to be offended.   
  
“I think it might be time for you two to have some sparring practice,” Hermione suggested.   
  
“They think I’ll beat you,” Luna said brightly.   
  
“Want to find out?” Michael asked. He narrowed his eyebrows but stopped short of any swagger.  
  
“Fight you?” Luna asked. “But I love you.”   
  
“Not scared, are you?” Jeff teased, having come over to join the group. Harry and Sarah followed behind him. Michael almost commented on the quick smile he shot at Sarah, but gathered enough decency to stop himself.  
  
“Why not?” Michael asked, meeting Luna’s eyes. “Seeing how you do against me would be a good measure of what would happen if you fought Stetnas.” He felt a little sickened by the comparison, but he did feel their magical abilities were comparable…or at least somewhat close. In the back of his mind Michael couldn’t deny Owen had the edge in sheer brutality and lethal techniques. It slightly disturbed him to realize that fact bothered him.  
  
The name brought up her anger again, just as he knew it would. Lately, he had been wondering exactly how strong Luna had become, and wanted to test her himself.   
  
“I suppose I’ll do it,” Luna agreed, stretching out. “Ready?”   
  
“Just a second,” Michael said quickly, smiling slightly. He looked a little pale, but hoped no one would notice. “Why don’t we make this interesting?”   
  
“What do you have in mind?” Luna asked curiously.   
  
Michael gulped. “You used to be known for saying crazy, insane things right?”   
  
“Yes, something like that,” she said, looking at him, obviously unsure where he was going with this.   
  
“Well, how about this: If you win, if you can beat me, then I will fully stand behind any assertions you make regarding defeating ultra-powerful Dark Wizards. Granted I’m not trying to murder you, but if you take me down, I’ll feel comfortable tracking down Owen – together.”  
  
“Okay,” Luna said slowly, “And if you win? Is this the crazy part?”   
  
“Yeah.” His face was unclear; he looked nervous, excited, worried, and hopeful at the same time. He seemed not to know whether or not to say what he wanted to. “If I win…”   
  
“If it’s that thing you keep trying in bed –”   
  
“We get married.”   
  
“WHAT?” shouted five voices at once. Luna’s was not among them. She was staring at Michael, eyes wide, lips parted, wrestling with the enormity of what he had just said.   
  
“We love each other,” Michael said, his voice unnaturally high pitched. He was sweating a bit now and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Why wait? I don’t need anyone else, so why don’t we get married? During the break, if I win. What do you think?”   
  
Ten seconds of silence followed his words. The most nerve racking seconds of Michael’s life passed with the other five staring blankly at him, while Luna gazed into his eyes, possibly into his soul. Then,   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“Yes?” Michael repeated dumbly.   
  
“Yes, I agree. If you win the duel, we’ll get married over the Christmas break, before we come back to school.”   
  
“All right then,” Michael said, hoping to project confidence or at least level-headedness though her affirmative answer had made him even more nervous. “Don’t you dare hold anything back.”   
  
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Luna breathed, pointing her wand at him.   
  
“Make sure the protection is better than when I fought Snape,” Michael told Jeff out of the corner of his mouth.   
  
“Luna going to need it?” he asked, still in shock.   
  
“No, I think I will.”   
  
As powerful as Michael had been, he had honed and increased his skills over the last few months, just like the rest of them, and was now more skilled than ever before.   
  
Luna, on the other hand, was perhaps the only person whose strength had increased faster than Michael's had. In just a few months she had gone from Loony Lovegood to the talented witch who had captured the heart of her boyfriend and had taken a life in order to protect him. She might've still been Loony, but fewer and fewer people were willing to say it to her face.  
  
They faced each other, Michael pale and anxious, Luna looking strangely like her old, dreamy self. Michael wondered if this was to throw him off.   
  
It was curious: Michael had fought countless duels in his life, against Lord Voldemort, against Owen Stetnas, against Severus Snape. And yet it was this battle, a battle in which no one was even in any danger, that made Michael more nervous than any other ever had.   
  
Michael and Luna looked into each other’s eyes, searching them, neither knowing what they were looking for. Sarah was glancing back and forth between them nervously. Michael and Luna both nodded at her.   
  
“Well…” she said, “I guess if you’re both ready….” She swallowed and composed herself. “Then START!”   
  
Twin jets of red met in midair, followed immediately by yellow streaks, then white ones. Their styles were similar, as Michael had taught Luna most of what she knew about fighting. Harry had only taught them spells last year, though he had tried to give them a rough idea of what real combat was like.   
  
Luna’s technique was slightly more guarded, which was a good thing, as Michael’s aggressive method forced her to constantly parry and block incoming spells. Both were more mobile in their fighting than most Wizards were during duels. Once again, it was Michael’s chosen style, which he had passed on to Luna.   
  
Luna nicked Michael's shoulder with a Stunner, but rather than falling unconscious, he was merely spun on the spot, nearly losing his balance, but sent a loud Body Bind at her as he revolved.   
  
“Wow,” Jeff said to Harry. “Did he seriously just shrug off a Stunner like that? He really wants to win….”   
  
Luna blocked it with an upward jerk of her wand, retaliating with a curse that blasted a large chunk of wall away as Michael deflected it.   
  
“Really?” Michael asked, eyebrows raised.   
  
She responded with another spell which sent a roaring blast of blue flames at him. He ducked quickly, but it still left his hair singed.   
  
“She really wants to go after Stetnas, doesn’t she?” Hermione whispered to Sarah.   
  
“And Michael really wants to marry her,” she replied, pointing at them.   
  
Two huge cone shaped spells had just connected with each other, blasting Michael and Luna backwards and off their feet. Both rolled back to their feet, firing curses blindly as they did.   
  
Sweat poured down both their faces, though in Michael’s case it was as much from the outcome of the duel as it was from the fight itself.   
  
Then, it was over.   
  
Luna caught Michael with an Impediment Jinx and this time he really did go down. Luna aimed her wand at him as he rolled to get back to his feet, ready to go for the figurative kill. Her lips began to form the word  _Incarceous_ , but she stopped after the first two syllables.   
  
She hesitated for a moment, her wand slowly dropping to her side, and her eyes wide. At the same moment Michael stood back up and reacted instinctively with a Body Bind Curse. She didn’t raise her wand back up to defend herself; instead she almost welcomed the curse, eyes closed and arms outstretched.   
  
It hit her in the chest, and she fell to the ground, rigid and unmoving.   
  
Michael stood completely still for about three seconds, wand still ready, unable to take in what had just happened.   
  
He ran to her side, lifting the curse the second he was near enough. Her eyelids fluttered open. Michael took her hand and helped her to her feet.   
  
“But – but you had me,” he whispered.   
  
“No, Michael,” she said quietly, as the others rushed over to them, still stunned. “You have me.”   
  
“Are you saying?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“Yes?” Harry repeated.   
  
“Yes!” said Hermione.   
  
“YES!” shrieked Sarah.   
  
Michael stared into Luna’s eyes a second longer, but then found it impossible as she had pulled him close and was kissing him deeply.   
  
“I said I was tired of people thinking of me as only your girlfriend,” she breathed, “I never said anything about your wife.” Their lips met again, and for several seconds they simply swayed on the spot, while Harry, Ron, Hermione, Sarah, and Jeff watched, wide eyed.   
  
Then the only sound audible was applause. Perhaps the Room had magnified the sound of the clapping as it was far too loud for only five people, though granted with the addition of unintelligible shouts and shrieks.   
  
“So what's the plan?” Luna asked. “You always have one.”   
  
“Actually,” he muttered, “I don’t. I didn’t want to make plans and psych myself out before we dueled….”   
  
“When did you decide this?” Hermione asked in amazement.   
  
“Sometime between lunch and Stunning Luna,” Michael shrugged.  
  
“So we’ll wing it?” Luna summarized.  
  
“That’s usually my plan of choice.”   
  
“How damn impulsive can you be? More importantly, how do we celebrate?” Jeff asked thoughtfully. “We could…I have no idea, what the hell do you do when your best friend gets engaged?”   
  
“You agree to be his best man,” Michael said gruffly.   
  
“Why not?” Jeff said with a shrug, though grinning ear to ear.   
  
Luna turned to Hermione and Sarah.   
  
“Would either of you like to be in the ceremony?”   
  
Both girls turned at the same time to look at each other. “I do,” they said in the same squeaky, excited voice.   
  
“Is there a law that says you can't have two with you?” Michael asked from over Jeff’s shoulder as he hugged his best friend.   
  
“I suppose it is my wedding,” Luna said thoughtfully. “Who’s going to tell me no? You can both be in it. I want you each as my Angel.”   
  
“Your angel?” Hermione asked, unable to help herself.  
  
“Yes,” Luna nodded. “In some cultures, when a girl is engaged, she chooses a close friend to act as an angel on her shoulder to keep her morally upright until her wedding day.”  
  
“So if Luna cheats on me, you're dead, Sarah,” Michael laughed.   
  
“Pfft,” Sarah said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Hermione can have that job. I’m taking the devil on the shoulder gig.”  
  
“I feel like that’s going to benefit me somehow…” Michael muttered under his breath.  
  
“Evil the devil needs a date,” Jeff said with a pitiful attempt at casualness.   
  
Sarah raised her eyebrows. “Step into my realm then, Dante.” They grinned with equal silliness. Michael punched Jeff in the arm in the best gesture of friendly pride he could muster.  
  
“I've got to owl Dad!” Luna said happily. “I suppose I have a lot to tell him….”   
  
“You never mentioned that you got your memories back, did you?” Michael asked her, looking amused.   
  
“No, I didn’t.”  
  
“And why not?” Michael asked, now somewhat nervous.  
  
Luna placed a strand of her in her mouth. “Well, there hasn’t been a lot of time between the life and death battles, and classes, and assassin plots. Also, I’ve been very caught up in my shoelace collection. You remember, don't you Michael?”  
  
Michael rubbed the back of his neck. He certainly did remember – he had spent several hours one night allowing Luna to explain what made each string different than the last. On the whole, Michael was thankful Luna’s chosen hobby was so benign. She could collect lint if she wanted, he didn’t care how odd it was, he preferred odd to dangerous.  And he liked her brand of odd anyway. “I hope he’s not mad at you.”   
  
Michael's recollection promptly crashed around him and he suddenly remembered he had just proposed. He grinned at his fiancé.   
  
“Well if he is,” Michael said, kissing her one last time, “I know I can count on you to protect me.” 


	22. Chapter 22: Home for the Holidays

The plans were laid out.   
  
  
Jeff, Sarah, Ron, and Hermione would all return to their homes for the beginning of the break. Harry was to go with Ron back to the Burrow, as he had no desire to see his Aunt or Uncle after the way they had parted company.   
  
Michael and Luna, meanwhile, would go first to Michael’s parents, to tell them everything that had happened, and so that Luna could get reacquainted. After they spent a few days there, they would make the pilgrimage to Luna’s house so that Michael could explain everything to Xenophillius, hopefully avoiding her whatever obscure curse he attempted on him.  
  
He had quickly responded to Luna’s owl, understandably angry that Michael had ignored his wishes and returned Luna’s memories. That and the fact that Michael was marrying his seventeen year old daughter necessitated Luna quickly penning a heartfelt reply to stop Xeno from coming to Hogwarts himself. Michael couldn’t blame him for this – he had always loved Luna very deeply and been protective of her, as any father would be.  
  
After their stay with their parents, everyone agreed to meet near Michael's parents home for the wedding. Hermione was thrilled with the idea of visiting another country, while Harry had privately told Michael he considered this a great idea, due to how much more difficult it would be for tabloid reporters from the  _Prophet_ to tail him away from home. Michael liked this idea – the wedding was to be a quiet affair, as Michael still refused to inform his superiors at STRIKE of Luna’s presence.   
  
Following the wedding and allowing two days for a honeymoon, they would then travel to Sarah’s parents far-larger-than-necessary home for her annual Christmas party. Sarah’s father was now retired, but in his younger days he had been a very powerful man in American Magical politics, even remaining close friends with the Secretary of Secrecy. Michael and Jeff had sometimes teased her for her wealth, but with her parents deciding to spend Christmas somewhere warm, no one would be complaining about having her home to themselves. Sarah had also demanded to handle the wedding plans. Michael and Luna allowed it, for a number of reasons.   
  
First of all, they were both going to be constantly busy and on the move over the next week, they wouldn’t have any time to contact a wading planner or anything. The second was that neither of them had any idea what to do for a wedding, save that Luna knew exactly how she wanted the moment of joining to be. The last reason was that neither Michael nor Luna had much money. Sarah had not mentioned this, but had pulled them aside and refused to allow them to pay for the ceremony, saying that she owed them both her life.   
  
It was the last day of the term, and Luna and the others, minus Michael, were lounging in the Gryffindor common room, trying to gain some warmth from the crackling fire.   
  
Harry, Ron, and Jeff were playing a card game at one of the tables intended for homework, while Luna, Sarah, and Hermione occupied the armchairs, talking happily about the imminent wedding, among other things.   
  
“This I so unfair!” Hermione said suddenly, as they discussed bridesmaid dresses.   
  
“Don’t worry, Hermione,” Luna said vaguely, immersed in a magazine. “Ron will ask you eventually, I'm sure….”   
  
“What?” she snapped, turning red. “I meant how you’re not in Gryffindor! You practically live in our common room, and you eat meals with us! Why did you have to end up in Ravenclaw?”   
  
“I suppose the Sorting Hat just thought I was a better fit,” Luna replied bluntly. “More open minded than brave. I do think I'm brave though, or else I wouldn’t be marrying Michael….” Jeff knocked his cards off the table from laughing too hard.  
  
“Being smart doesn’t preclude you from Gryffindor,” Hermione said defiantly.   
  
“Well,” she said, pointing out two different dress designs to Sarah, “I suppose I could ask Professor Dumbledore to let me be Sorted again.”   
  
“Can you do that?” Sarah asked. “By the way, definitely this one,” she added, pointing at one of the designs.   
  
“Yes, it sometimes happens in rare cases,” Luna said. “Generally only when someone is deeply unhappy in their own house. I suppose if my husband is a Gryffindor, Professor Dumbledore might say yes. On the other hand, I only have a few more months at Hogwarts.” She lifted her eyes from her magazine and stared fondly around the room, both at the people in it and the room itself.  
  
“By the way, where is Michael?” Harry called from across the empty common room. Harry had recently noticed how desolate their common room had become. He couldn’t help but feel it was partially due to the rather intimidating presence cast by the seven teens. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.  
  
“Oh, I don’t know” Hermione said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “He couldn’t be getting a ring, could he?”   
  
“Oh, yeah…maybe.”   
  
“Maybe,” Jeff muttered. He laid down his recollected cards on the table, causing Ron a howl of misery, “I might know exactly what he's doing. But I’ll never tell.”  
  
“Why not?” Luna asked.   
  
“He would literally kill me if I told you,” Jeff said solemnly. “Here, let’s play another hand, maybe you’ll have some luck this time, Ron….”   
  
“Are you forgetting who won our duel?” Luna asked lightly.   
  
“He did, if I remember right,” Jeff snickered. “Didn’t you throw out your arms in defeat?”   
  
“Regardless of whether or not she beat Michael,” Sarah said, thumbing through another magazine. “She can definitely kick your ass, so I’d shut up if I were you.”   
  
“Yeah, whatever…” Jeff said, quickly turning back to his game. He knew better than to deny it. Luna had, frighteningly fast, become the most powerful witch among the students of Hogwarts, nearly the most powerful student period.   
  
Plus he had little to no desire to fight with Sarah at the moment. That might put a damper on some of his pressing plans.  
  
“Honey I'm home!” Michael called, stepping through the portrait hole smiling pleasantly.   
  
Sarah sighed and shook her head disparagingly. “Hello, where have you been?” Luna asked him.   
  
“Out drinking,” he replied smoothly, falling into the one unused chair and warming his hands by the fire.   
  
“And you didn’t bring her back a bottle?” Sarah asked. “Some husband. Time to rethink this marriage thing, Luna.”  
  
“You know, I worried about that on my way back, so I stopped and got you this,” Michael grinned, pulling a small velvet box out of his pocket, “It’s not quite the same, but I hope you won't be too mad.” He handed it to her, feeling the collective stares of all their friends upon him.  
  
She opened it and gasped.   
  
Inside was a beautiful silver ring with a sparkling sapphire on it. It wasn’t large, but Michael had chosen an oval cut – a less common design he felt suited his fiancé. Luna took it gingerly and slid it onto her finger, where it fit perfectly.   
  
“So that’s what you picked…?” Jeff asked, as Luna displayed it to Sarah and Hermione. He nodded approval. “Well, I hope it tastes good, ‘cause you don't look like you have any money left to eat.” Sarah swept away from Luna, came face to face with Jeff, glared at him for a moment – which he responded to with dismissive “tch” sound – then promptly kicked him in the groin. His eyes filled with tears as his knees locked together and he fell to the ground, making sad little moaning noises.  
  
Michael sighed. “Thanks for that, Sarah, but if you don't mind, I'm going back to this super-sweet moment for us,” Michael said quietly, watching Luna, whose head snapped to him as he said it, “I got one for me, too.” He pulled a simple golden band out of his pocket. While it was obviously old, it showed signs of having been recently polished. “That should save time and effort trying to pick out a wedding ring for me. I know you don't have any time for a job, Luna, with school and all. You can pay me back for the ring later.” He winked as Ron laughed out loud. Jeff continued to write on the ground.  
  
“It’s a sapphire,” Luna whispered.  
  
“Yeah,” Michael said. He hoped his gesture would go over well. “You told me the first night we were back together you thought they were the best.”  
  
“Wow,” Ron said, as Luna and Michael flew together as if magnetized and their combined forms fell off the chair and onto the floor, which didn’t deter their passionate kissing. “You’ve got to show me how to do that.”   
  
“Maybe another time!” came Michael’s voice from under Luna, who was attempting to roll over to get him on top, but was prevented from doing so by the intensity of their glorified make out session. Michael was pulling at the bottom of her shirt, trying to get it up. Michael loved many things about Luna, and her complete disregard for public displays of affection was at the top of the list. Both staggered to their feet as they rolled dangerously close to the slowly rising Jeff, and then both of them hurried off into the boys’ dormitory.   
  
Perhaps  _this_  was the reason the common room was so empty these days.   
  
“Dammit,” Ron muttered, “I was just getting tired, now I can't go to bed for another twenty minutes….”  
  
“Well, I can and I am,” Hermione said. She stood up and stretched, then disappeared up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory, thanking God that boys weren’t allowed there, or else she might not be allowed any sleep either.   
  
Sarah followed shortly, smirking a little at the boys’ predicament.   
  
“Might as well deal another hand,” Jeff, who had carefully sat back down in the softest armchair, grumbled. “It’s gonna be a while…want to join us Neville?” he added as Neville came in through the hole, Seamus and Dean behind him.   
  
“Why?” Neville asked sharply. “We were just about to head up to bed.”   
  
“I wouldn’t,” Harry warned, “unless you want to be scarred for life.”   
  
“Oh, God, is it Michael and Lovegood again?” Dean asked, drawing up a chair and picking up the hand Jeff had dealt him.   
  
“They’re always up there!” Seamus said furiously. “I’d kick Michael’s arse, but he’s, you know…the way he is. There’s no way the three of them just decided to come over from Salem out of the blue like this.” Ron coughed.  
  
“And Luna’s pretty scary lately too,” Dean put in. “I don't know what you’ve been getting up to with them,” he said to Harry, “but she seems to be handling whatever you throw at her just fine…can you imagine if they had a kid?”   
  
“They will if they’re not careful,” Seamus said, glancing up at the dormitories. “Scary thought though.”   
  
Jeff, Harry, and Ron glanced at each other uncomfortably. Michael and Luna had decided against telling anyone in the school besides Dumbledore about their marriage, it would draw too much attention to what was already supposed to be a covert mission, though there were now nearly a dozen people in on the secret.   
  
Luna walked – swaying slightly – out of the boys’ dorm about twenty minutes later, her clothes disheveled and her hair untidier than usual.   
  
“You boys can go up now,” she said in a low voice that was foreign to her. “But don’t wake up Michael; he’s had a long night.” The portrait flew open in front of her, at a flick of her hand, and she stepped through, leaving Dean, Seamus, and Neville gawking at her back. Ron merely shrugged and Harry’s direction and gestured for him to follow him upstairs.   
  
The next day Michael awoke surrounded by people. He was still wearing nothing but his boxers from last night, and immediately pulled the covers up higher. It was all five of his best friends, plus his fiancé.   
  
They all looked concerned, especially Luna, who was already dressed warmly for their impending trip.   
  
“So, uh, I don’t know how to say this,” Jeff began, rubbing his hands together.   
  
“If one of you is dying from something tell me, or else get out so I can get a few more hours of sleep. Except you,” he added with a smirk to Luna, “you can stay.”   
  
“No thanks, it would take too long to get all this off,” Luna said, gesturing at her bulky attire. Hermione shuffled her feet in an embarrassed sort of way. “I think they just wanted to give you some advice before we left.”   
  
“Advice?” Michael repeated hazily. He sat up and took his wand off the nightstand, summoning a clean pair of jeans. He pulled them under the covers and struggled to put them on without getting up.   
  
“Yeah,” Harry said, “advice on how not to be murdered by Luna’s dad.”   
  
“First of all,” Jeff said, “do NOT mention that you have already had sex, though I suppose that’s a given.”   
  
“Second:” Ron said, “the right hook. Avoid it at all costs.”   
  
“And if all else fails,” Sarah finished, “tell him you saved her life.”   
  
“Yeah thanks,” Michael mumbled. “But can I get some sleep?”   
  
“No,” Hermione said quickly, “we have to be in the Great Hall in thirty minutes if we want to get on the Hogwarts Express.”   
  
“And why can't Dumbledore just lift the damn Anti-Apparition wards?” Michael asked, getting out of bed and searching for a shirt to cover his scarred chest. “Just for like, three seconds?”   
  
“Because he’s not here,” Harry responded. “Now that I think about it, I haven't seen him in a few days….” He looked troubled for a moment, but then shrugged. “Anyway, we need to get going to catch the Express.”   
  
“Yeah, fine.” But as he gathered his possessions, Michael was left wondering what Dumbledore could be doing? Surely something anti-Voldemort, but what?  
  
A half hour later, the seven teens were standing in crowded Hall, awaiting the carriages that would take them to the school train. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Luna were dressed in layers, but Michael, Jeff, and Sarah all wore lighter jackets.   
  
Luna was wearing her lucky gloves again. Michael agreed that if they were going to explain themselves to Luna’s father, they would need all the luck they could get.   
  
“I'm telling you Luna,” Michael was saying, “you’re going to catch fire when we get back home.”  
  
“It still gets cold this time of year,” Luna replied with a small smile. “I remember. I'm really looking forward to seeing home again.” Michael nodded but said nothing. So Luna  _did_ want to go home…to her home.  
  
They boarded the train soon and ended up in the same compartment as before, though it was slightly more cramped with the addition of Luna.   
  
“Don’t worry,” she said brightly, when Ron pointed this out. “I’ll make room.” With that she slid over onto Michael’s lap, smiling benignly at them. “Much more room now.”   
  
“Yeah, more room…” Michael repeated vaguely, a stupid grin slowly covering his face. Sarah laughed at them.   
  
“That’s probably something else you want to avoid when you see Luna’s dad,” she said, though Michael barely heard her.   
  
They met Ron and Hermione’s parents on the platform and introduced themselves the Grangers and reintroduced themselves to the Weasleys, who had not gotten to talk much to them. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were acquainted with Luna’s father, but didn’t know Luna well. When she shook the four sets of hands, she introduced herself as Luna Lovegood-Jacobs. Michael could only stare blankly at the use of his last name.   
  
“Jacobs?” Mrs. Weasley repeated slowly. She had heard about Luna from Ron and Ginny, but Jacobs was definitely not the name they had used. “Are you two…?”   
  
“Yeah we are,” Michael said, as Luna held up her hand to show off the ring that shined on her finger.   
  
“Oh, congratulations!” she cried, though she had had no more than two minutes interaction with Michael before, and none with Luna. Ron rolled his eyes and Ginny snickered a bit behind her mother’s back.  
  
“Thank you, but we’re trying to keep it quiet,” Michael said, smiling. “But we’d like it if Ron and Ginny could be at the wedding, it’s in about a week.”   
  
“Oh, of course!” she said with a large smile. Michael however frowned. He wondered why she should be so happy that two near strangers were getting married, unless Ron had told her things about Luna.   
  
“Right, well we should get going. Merry Christmas to you all.”   
  
Harry, Ron, and Ginny waved goodbye to their friends and set off ahead of the Weasleys, Hermione following them quickly with her own parents. Michael smiled after them. Good people, all of them.  
  
“Hey,” Sarah said, making Michael start. He had almost forgotten Jeff and Sarah were still there. “In all seriousness, I hope everything works out for you two with Luna’s dad.”  
  
“He’ll understand,” Jeff added, nodding reassuringly. He shuffled his feet a little. “I mean, it’s weird, man. The next time I see you you’ll be a married man.”  
  
Michael raised a single eyebrow at him and gave him a tiny wink while Luna gave Sarah a hug, which she returned happily. Jeff broke into a massive grin and responded with his own wink. “C’mon Sarah, let me Apparate you home.”  
  
“I can Apparate just fine on my own,” Sarah said a bit quickly. Then she became the third to put on a mischievous grin. “But I do enjoy watching you try and interact with my parents, so fine, let’s go.”  
  
“We’ll see you soon,” Luna beamed at the pair of them. “Enjoy each other!”  
  
Michael snorted loudly as Jeff stumbled in his attempt at a quick turn with Sarah to Apparate across country. Red faced and awkward, he suddenly pulled Sarah a little closer to him and spun again, this time succeeding in vanishing from the station.  
  
Alone at last, at least as it pertained to people they knew, Michael took Luna’s hand and they turned together, vanishing from the frigidness of London to the more-cool-than-cold breeze of a luckily warm southern winter.   
  
“Home sweet home,” Michael said happily.   
  
They were standing in the middle of a large field, nothing notable around them except the yellow-green grass at their feet, a single modest home sitting before a mountain range in the distance, and a pair of unicorns watching them from behind a high fence to the east of the home. A straight dirt road led to and away from the house, continuing on as far away as they could see, in the opposite direction of the mountains. Michael took Luna’s hand and they set off towards the house.   
  
“My parents and Hagrid would probably get along,” Michael said, pointing at the fenced in field, in which it was now also possible to see a Threstal.  
  
“Is he new?” Luna asked, nodding at the skeletal horse. “I don't remember him when we were young.”  
  
Michael rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand and looked at her unhappily. “No, Shadow’s not new. We just couldn’t see him back then.”  
  
Luna didn’t reply to that, instead squinting her eyes at something sitting off to the other side of the house, away from the field. She cocked her head. “You have a car?” She was staring at the bright red vehicle parked alongside the house, looking as out of place as the Threstal in this scene.   
  
Michael grinned, but also turned a little red “Yeah, I do.”   
  
“It looks very nice,” Luna observed. “Daddy once caught Ron’s father trying to drive a car, but it wasn’t nice like this one.”  
  
  
“Its…pretty top of the line, actually,” Michael said. They stopped outside the house. “Muggles call them sports cars, they're usually for people without anything better to spend their money on.  
  
 No way I’d ever be able to afford it myself, but STRIKE got called up on a hostage mission in Italy and I ended up saving some apparently important person’s life. I got a letter from Mom and Dad saying there was a Muggle car in the driveway. I came home to see it and found a note on the windshield thanking me for what I had done.”   
  
“Is it fast?” Luna asked.  
  
  
Michael laughed loudly. “Of course it’s fast. Its faster than a broom, I mean, I’d take it everywhere if I couldn’t Apparate and was into the Muggle –”  
  
  
Luna wrapped her hair around her index finger. “You don't know how to drive it, do you?”  
  
  
“I do not.”  
  
  
“By the way,” Michael said as they approached the house, “I haven't told my parents that I met you again, so this may come as a surprise to them…”   
  
  
“Why didn’t you tell them?” Luna asked. She looked a little hurt, so Michael moved quickly to reassure her.  
  
  
“I don't know how private any of my communications are,” Michael told her. “Is STRIKE spying on me? No, probably not. But on the other hand…well, Jeff says I'm being paranoid, but Captain Hiro, head of Intel, is  _definitely_ paranoid. And…he sort of hates me. It’s only a matter of time before he sniffs out all the bullshit I've been filling my reports with and I wouldn’t be shocked to know he's monitoring my messages somehow.”  
  
  
“What if he’s watching you in real time?” Luna asked, gazing around the deserted property. Michael had a sudden epiphany as she said this – his parents were older and had always enjoyed the quiet, but now he knew why Luna’s mother had chosen to live here. The isolation was perfect for a Special Forces captain to live in and work from. It was the same reason he and Luna were able to Apparate directly onto the lawn without fear of Muggles.  
  
  
“I’d know,” Michael said calmly. “Spying jobs are usually given out to either Intel or Special Forces. Intel usually handles low risk, boring reconnaissance jobs. They’re desk-job type of people. It’s my people that would be tasked with keeping tabs on someone like a STRIKE Captain. None of them are well trained enough to do it without me detecting them,” he finished firmly. “Now…about that surprise for my parents….”  
  
  
“I like surprises,” Luna said mildly.   
  
  
“Got something in mind?” Michael asked, coming to a stop a few steps away from the front door.   
  
  
“I do.” She drew her wand and tapped herself on the head with it. She slowly vanished from view, taking on the appearance of the things around her.   
  
  
“And from here?” Michael asked, trying to follow the shimmer that was Luna though the air.   
  
  
“Michael,” came her voice from right in front of the door, “if you can say we’ll just 'wing' the wedding, we can wing it here.”   
  
  
“Fair point,” he said, “accidently” walking into her from behind as he approached the door.   
  
  
“Do you really want to greet your parents in such an excited state?” Luna inquired curiously. "Or are they more open about sexual experiences?"  
  
  
“Shit Luna…” Michael laughed, trying to stay quiet while at the same time barely holding together under her phrasing.  
  
He took a deep breath and knocked three times on the door. He waited a few seconds, drumming his fingers on the doorframe, until his mother answered the door.   
  
  
“Michael!” she cried, hugging him tightly. “Hi! I haven't seen you in so long! How are you?” she went on, still squeezing him. Michael now regretted leaving Luna invisible, as she would give his mother someone else to embarrass.    
  
  
“Hi, Mom,” he said, releasing himself and stepping inside, discreetly holding the door open so Luna could follow. “I'm great. Sorry I haven't been around in a while, work’s keeping me busy.”  
  
  
“They always do,” his mother replied with a huff.  
  
  
“Yeah, well, they do a lot of things,” Michael muttered. “Least of which is overworking me. Anyway, where’s dad?”  
  
  
They entered into a spacious entryway, which led off to the den. A kitchen was separated from the den by a wall adorned with various rustic decorations.  
  
  
“John!” his mother called into the den, “our son’s home!”   
  
  
“Still have both arms and legs?” asked a gruff voice.   
  
  
“That’s terrible!” Nancy cried angrily. “What if he didn’t?”   
  
  
A man of about fifty came bounding down the stairs, his glasses bouncing up and down on his nose. He wore excited smile and a straw hat, which covered his receding hairline.   
  
  
“He’d have more trouble finding a girl, for one thing. Hey!” he said happily, jumping the last three steps and hugging Michael, who laughed at him. “Decided to come home for once, did you? Not too busy chasing down crazies? They got you to go back to school, I hear. So  _I_ can't convince you to finish your education, but they can?”   
  
  
“Yeah, Hogwarts is pretty different than Salem was,” Michael smiled. “But I'm surviving. There are plenty of crazy people there too. And I'm doing more than finishing my education.”  
  
  
“Hogwarts?” John repeated, looking at his wife to confirm this, “Well…did you do it? Did you finally grow a pair and talk to Luna?”  
  
  
“What do you mean?” Michael said quickly.  
  
  
“You told us a few months ago you found out she was going to Hogwarts these days, you should look her up!” John said encouragingly.   
  
  
“Who’s to say I didn’t?” Michael asked his father defiantly.  
  
  
“Oh, have you seen her?” Nancy asked curiously. “Did you talk to her?”   
  
  
“Well, you could say that…” Michael said, subtly glancing at Luna. “Let’s go into the living room, take a seat.”   
  
  
“Sure thing,” his father said, leading them into the next room. “So, what's been going on with a grown man like you? Eighteen now, it was strange not to have you around for it, even if you have spent every birthday with Jeff and Sarah for years…” His parents sat down in two chairs, facing the couch where Michael and, unknown to them, Luna sat.   
  
  
“Sorry,” Michael apologize, frowning. “I was away on a mission with STRIKE and some other friends, we were in the Caribbean.”   
  
  
“The Caribbean?” his mother said. She sounded impressed and proud. “That sounds lovely, but was it dangerous? I know you can't tell me what you were doing, but…?”   
  
  
“Not too dangerous, no,” Michael said, smirking slightly. “It’s never dangerous as long as I'm around.” He had discovered early on in his career the overconfidence that he was now beginning to shed provided a great comfort to his family, especially his mother. So for her sake, he continued to present himself as indestructible, although he now knew that this was in no way the case. “I was guarding Harry Potter, actually.”  
  
  
“Harry Potter?” she repeated, looking star struck. “They're giving you  _that_ kind of responsibility?”  
  
  
“Mom,” Michael muttered with embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck, “I'm one of the best agents they have. I get jobs like that all the time. This one’s different though,” he added as he thought he heard Luna attempting to stifle a laugh.  
  
  
“So, did you meet a girl yet?” John asked him with a wink. “Hogwarts girls maybe, or perhaps even a sweet islander? Or Luna?”   
  
  
“I told you about that Dad,” Michael said patiently, “STRIKE is absolutely clear about no contact with Luna.”  
  
  
“And?” John scoffed impatiently. “What do you care about that? She was your best friend, you should at least  _talk_ to her. That’s what you said the day you found out. You came home, it was the first time we’d seen you in months, and you don’t even say hello. No, all you do is throw yourself in one chair, kick over two more – which you still owe us for, by the way – and start _shouting_. I might be used to that kind of language, but your poor mother isn't.”  
  
  
“Eff STRIKE, eff this, eff that,” Nancy shook her head. “‘They lied to me, everyone lied to me, they lied to her, eff them, eff this. I’m going to effing kick his ‘A’ if he tries to ‘BS’ me like this ever again.”  
  
  
“And I thought I was being a ‘cool’ dad by offering you whatever you wanted from my liquor cabinet,” John went on, “and then I realized you already knew what every bottle in there was!”  
  
  
Michael's father always meant well. John Manley lived up to his name – he was a quintessential man’s man, always giving other people a hard time, including his son, but very loving. He had supported Michael's decision to join the war across the ocean wholeheartedly, but always welcomed him home with relief when Michael made an appearance. John was always capable of giving either an insult or a warm hug.  
  
  
“So did you do it or not?” John demanded.   
  
  
“I suppose I did,” Michael said, twitching his left hand. “Would you like to see her?”   
  
  
“See her?” Nancy asked in surprise. “It’s been years, of course, when can we?”   
  
  
“How about… now?” Michael asked, tilting his head at where Luna sat, invisible.   
  
  
“What are you…? Luna!” Nancy shouted, as Luna removed the Disillusionment Charm on herself. She stared at Michael. “Is that really Luna?”   
  
  
Luna nodded with enough force to flip her hair over her face. She brushed it away quickly. “It’s great to see you again,” she said brightly. “Your home is as nice as I remember, you have even more Think Pollen floating around than you used to.” She sneezed with a particularly high pitched noise. “I think I may be allergic, though.”  
  
  
“It really is Luna Lovegood,” Michael’s father said, looking slightly awed. “You haven't been in our house since you were ten years old. How did he convince you to come back here?”   
  
  
“Actually,” Luna said. She raised her left hand, showing Michael’s foster parents the ring that shone on her finger, Michael doing the same with his, though he held his up in front of his face, “it’s Luna Jacobs now.”   
  
  
“You two…!” Nancy said, her eyes darting back and forth between their faces. She took a breath and composed herself. “You got married!”   
  
  
“Engaged, actually” Michael smiled, as his father stood up to hug him again. “We didn’t want to rush into this. The wedding’s not till next week.”   
  
  
“But what…?” Nancy sad, still in her seat. John was now embracing Luna too. “How exactly did this – ? Have you two been dating or …?”   
  
  
“It’s kind of a long story Mom,” Michael told her, “See, it all starts with Luna’s mom. I told you a while back she was a STRIKE agent….”   
  
  
He spent the next hour telling the story of how Luna had lost her memories, how they had met again, their mission to St. Lucia, the trip to Stonehenge to restore Luna’s memories, and how they had ended up engaged before the break.   
  
  
Luna didn’t interrupt once during the story, she simply at next to her future husband, gazing around his parents’ house. Michael had to stop and explain things to his parents more than once, around when he got to the parts about their missions. Here and there he cleaned up his story a bit, playing down the intense danger they had faced recently. He completely omitted any mention of Owen Stetnas or Bellatrix Lestrange.  
  
  
“So if it’s okay, Luna and I were hoping to stay here for a few days,” Michael finished, “then we’re going to her dad’s for a bit.”   
  
  
“Of course!” John said cheerfully. “We’d like nothing better, right hon?”   
  
  
“It would be our honor,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “I’m so proud! Of you, both of you! Of who you’ve become, and I hope that Xeno can see that.”   
  
  
“Daddy probably will be pretty mad,” Luna said calmly, “but he’ll come around. I love Michael, and he loves me! So we’re getting married next week.” She had a fierce, slightly combative look in her eye that reminded Michael of Ginny. Gearing up for the coming fight, he supposed. “Please, I hope you’ll come to the wedding.”   
  
  
“As if it’s a question,” Michael’s mother said. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”   
  
  
“Speaking of the wedding,” John said, looking intently at Michael and Luna’s intertwined hands, “you decided to go against a diamond, did you?”   
  
  
“Err…yeah, I did,” Michael said, knowing he was about to receive some admonishment for this. But John laughed and addressed Luna.  
  
  
“He listens to you, I suppose?” Luna nodded happily and gave her fiancé a quick kiss on the cheek. “That’s a real nice thing you’ve done Michael,” his father said quietly. “Your parents would have been incredibly proud of you. It’s a shame…”   
  
  
“We’ve all lost people we love,” Michael said, looking sideways at Luna, who nodded, “But we have to learn to move on, to accept life as we are given it.”   
  
  
“Wise words,” John said softly.  
  
  
“So Dad, I noticed you guys finally got a hippogriff,” Michael said, plainly trying to change the subject from his dead parents. “Saw it on the way in.”   
  
  
Oh yeah,” John said, allowing the change, “we got it last year. Real handsome male, imported him from Ireland.”   
  
  
“Let’s have a look,” Michael said, standing up. “It’s great how you can let them be out in the open, seeing as how there’s no one else for miles. Ever rode a unicorn, Luna?”   
  
  
“No I haven't,” she said excitedly. “Can I?”   
  
  
“Why not?” Nancy asked, “Come on, let’s go outside, get some fresh air. Michael, why don’t you and Luna go riding?”   
  
  
“All right, but I'm taking a horse,” Michael said firmly. “Rusty still around?”   
  
  
“Oh yeah,” John said, holding the back door for the other three to leave, “He’s been waiting for you. I don’t think he’s been saddled since you left.”   
  
  
“Rusty’s my favorite,” Michael told Luna as they stepped out into the cool. “We’ve had him forever, but he’s getting older… By the way, you might want to take off a couple layers…”   
  
  
“It is a bit warm,” Luna conceded, removing her heavier jacket with a bit of a shrug. “I suppose I overdid it.” She turned to Michael's parents. “You didn’t used to have horses, only magical animals. Why did you change?”  
  
  
John and Nancy shared a look. “Well,” Nancy answered, “there’s only so large a market for the magical creatures we can raise here. We have unicorns and Threstals and even had a few Hippogriffs for a while, but we can't handle so many at once, too much risk of Muggles seeing. That’s a huge fine if they do, and even with so many magical animals, there aren’t enough people to sell them too – not people who will treat them right, at least. So a few years ago we added horses to try to diversify a little. They're mostly easy to care for, and we can sell them to Muggles.” She smiled at Luna. “It’s just a way to raise a little extra money. Plus, I think John likes riding them best –”  
  
  
“Sarah’s paying for the wedding, Mom,” Michael said abruptly. “All of it. Luna and I have saved her life too many times to count, she insisted.” Michael's mother and father again looked at each other for guidance, then nodded silently at Michael. The four walked over to the fence bordering the pen. A large reddish brown horse came over and snorted at Michael.   
  
  
“Yeah, I missed you too,” he said, stroking his head.   
  
  
“Let’s saddle them up,” John muttered to Michael, opening the gate and striding inside.   
  
  
“Actually, if it’s okay, I’ll ride bareback,” Luna said. She remained leaning over the fence, talking to Michael’s mother.   
  
  
“You’ve made a man’s decision,” John told Michael quietly as he helped him saddle the horse. “You made a tough decision, telling Luna everything, even though you might get in trouble. You were willing to risk it for the woman you love.” He settled the seat on Rusty’s back. “I wish you both all the happiness in the world. If your people come looking for your head, let me know, and I’ll lend you a hand taking them out.” He winked at his son, whose powers he did not know the full extent of, but who he was incredibly proud of.  
  
  
“Thanks Dad,” Michael muttered, smiling at his father.   
  
  
“Also…” John said in a low voice, glancing over at his wife and future daughter in law, “it’s pretty nippy out, so I’d bring a blanket if you two are going to…”   
  
  
“Thanks for the advice,” Michael laughed, “I’ll keep that in mind. But it’s a little early, even for me. Come on in!” he yelled to Luna, who jumped gracefully over the fence, and marched over to the unicorn, who did not recoil at her touch, but neighed softly.   
  
  
“What’s his name?” Luna asked. Michael had just climbed up onto Rusty and was adjusting himself.   
  
  
“Romeo,” Michael replied. “He’s one of…three? I think, that we have now. Go ahead and get on, he seems to like you.” Romeo was sniffing Luna interestedly, and then licked her face. She laughed and held out her hand. He eagerly rubbed his head against her hand, carefully minding its horn. After a moment, Luna climbed up on his back, straddling him with her hands loosely around his neck.   
  
  
“Can we still ride the old trails?” Michael asked his parents as Rusty and Romeo trotted to the gate.   
  
  
“Yeah, it’s still pretty isolated out here,” John said, “Just don’t stray too far south, Muggles have started building that way recently, and they might be a little surprised to see Romeo.”   
  
  
“Right, we’ll just head north, towards the mountains. Come on Luna, let’s get going.”   
  
  
“All right!”   
  
  
They rode off into the crisp morning air, a slight breeze biting them, though it was more cool than cold. Michael led Luna off the property and along a dirt trail that curved through some dry, leafless trees, and then straightened out as it sloped upward into the hills.   
  
  
“He’s beautiful,” Luna said as they wound around a group of trees.   
  
  
“I’m right here,” Michael smirked. “You only use ‘he’ if you’re not talking to the person, you see….”   
  
  
“I meant Romeo,” Luna said, rubbing his head. “I’d love to have a friend like him. Or any of these wonderful animals.”   
  
  
“If he makes you happy…” Michael sighed. “But I think there are laws against that kind of stuff in this state.” Luna didn’t seem to want to banter at the moment, so Michael got serious. “Really though, Luna, is that what you want to do after Hogwarts? Raise animals, or take care of them? I think you'd be good at any of it.”  
  
  
“Hmm, I think I would be very happy with either of those jobs,” Luna said thoughtfully, moving a bit ahead of him. “But for now, we already have a job that no class is going to prepare us for.”  
  
  
“War?” Michael asked dryly.  
  
  
“Heroism,” Luna replied brightly, turning back to smile at him. Michael did nothing but contemplate that for a little while.  
  
  
“How long is this trail anyway?” Luna asked eventually.   
  
  
“Couple more miles,” Michael replied. “Why, not getting bored are you?”   
  
  
“No, just a little sore,” she said, rubbing her backside. "I think bareback was a bad idea after all.”   
  
  
“Don’t worry. When we get back I can give you a massage, maybe…you know, release some tension,” Michael suggested innocently.   
  
  
“I don’t think it’s considered a massage if you’re rubbing my bum,” Luna stated. “I'm fairly sure that’s only groping.”   
  
  
“Well, that’s a pretty good way to relieve tension too.”   
  
  
“I think it would be a little strange, in your childhood bedroom,” Luna replied, tilting her head back at him. “Don’t you think?”  
  
  
Michael didn’t agree whatsoever, but recognized Luna’s decline of his offer.   
  
  
They rode for another ten minutes before coming close to a small Muggle town at the foot of the mountains. Luna’s appearance on the back of a unicorn was sure to cause a disturbance, so they turned around and headed back downhill to Michael’s parents’.   
  
  
“So, what are we going to do?” Luna asked. She sounded suddenly nervous, and Michael had an idea what she was talking about.   
  
  
“About your Dad?” he asked.   
  
  
“Yes. He’s so mad at us. Mainly at you.”   
  
  
“It’s like you said back in the house,” Michael said. He pulled on the reigns, causing Rusty to move closer to Luna. “We love each other and that’s all that matters. And anyway…” he smiled mischievously at her, “I can be very convincing when I want.”   
  
  
“I figured that out quickly,” Luna smiled, laughing a little. “How long did it take to get me to marry you?”   
  
  
“Too long.”   
  
  
Michael and Luna stayed with the Manleys for the next three days, enjoying their company and revisiting places from their childhood. They spent a day in the town closest to the house, shopping and eating and noting the differences between English and American Wizards, such as the fact that Witches and Wizards in the States tended to wear their wands more openly, on their belt or in some kind of holster hanging down their leg. They even browsed a local antique shop, where Luna purchased a peculiar silver device somewhat like a compass Michael had initially feared was designed for torture, but Luna had assured him was nothing more than a medieval cartography instrument. Michael had had some doubts, given that they were in a plainly Muggle store, yet after they returned home she had happily shown him the little thing’s power, setting the spindley, multi-pronged on a spare piece of paper. A tap of her wand later and it was rapidly sketching out a map of the town they had just left, marking the names of shops and streets, as well as painting a trail of footprints Luna pointed out were their own.  
  
  
The following evening, Michael declined his mother’s request for dinner suggestions, instead insisting Luna accompany him to the park where they had often played when they were young. That night they ate slightly dry sandwiches on top of a children’s’ jungle gym, their legs dangling over as they sat in silence, merely giving one another an occasional affectionate touch. Michael hadn't felt so young and free in years, ironic considering he was about to take one of the largest, most consequential steps of his life. But for those three wonderful days, Michael and Luna could be nothing more than what they appeared – a very happy, very in love young couple relishing slightly sappy dates. On the third day since leaving Hogwarts, Michael and Luna were preparing to leave to return to England, to the Lovegoods’ and – hopefully – more good times.  
  
  
“I’ll see you in a few days Mom,” Michael said, hugging his mother. “The wedding’s not far from here, just in the little church in the town south of here. I love you both.”   
  
  
Michael and Luna headed out the door, into the faint sunlight of midday December. Michael’s parents watched them go, then John shut the door.   
  
  
“Ready for the next stop?” Michael asked Luna, holding out his hand.   
  
  
“Actually…” She seemed to be debating something, grappling with a difficult decision. “There was one more thing I wanted to do, before we left.”   
  
  
“Sure, what is it?” Michael asked, dropping his hand and looking at her curiously.   
  
  
“Can we go by my old house? Do you know who lives there now?”   
  
  
Michael looked at her a little sadly. “No one lives there. Your Dad couldn't bring himself to sell it, he just abandoned it when you two left. I found out when I realized what had happened to your mom. I…dug up a lot on you and your dad.” He cleared his throat. “But if you really want to go, we should.”   
  
  
“I’d like to.”   
  
  
Michael re-extended his hand and she took it. They turned on the spot and disappeared, spinning through the usual blackness, Michael trying hard to picture the house he hadn’t seen in seven years, before their feet met ground again. Luna opened her eyes and gasped.   
  
  
It was exactly the way Michael remembered her old home, except that it had fallen into slight disrepair. But it was still the same large, white house that Luna had grown up in. Really, they both had.  
  
  
The stone columns flanking the front porch still stood tall, and even without human touch for over five years, her mother’s roses were still blooming. The cream colored shutters hung determinedly to the windows, though a few had fallen off. Next to the rose garden Michael noticed a small impact crater. He assumed this was where Elysina Lovegood had lost her life protecting her daughter. The grass was overgrown and wild, well past their ankles.  
  
  
A winding concrete sidewalk led slightly downhill to the mailbox, which stood a foot from the road. The street continued both directions, and two houses similar to Luna’s were just barely visible in the distance, far enough away to provide privacy.   
  
  
“They're still there,” Luna whispered to Michael, nudging him and pointing at the red roses that were still fighting the cold.   
  
  
“Huh,” he said. “I never thought that actually worked….”   
  
  
“What do you mean?”   
  
  
“A long time ago, when we were like, eight or so me and my dad came over to your house to see you. It was just around this time of year, and your mom was kneeling in the garden, trying to save these roses.   
  
  
“I didn’t really think anything of it, I just walked over to her and said ‘What are you doing?’ She told me that her flowers were going to die because of the cold. I touched the ground next to that  one,” he indicated a particularly tall rose, “and I hoped they would live. I guess I did some kind of magic to protect against cold.”   
  
  
“So this is where…?” Luna trailed off, staring at the spot where the earth was gouged out, next to the garden. She took a deep breath and calmed herself. “This is where she died,” she said steadily. She  knelt down and placed her hand on the edge of the crater, digging her fingers into the dirt a bit.  
  
  
“I suppose so,” Michael said sadly, unsure what to say to comfort her. “If you want to leave now, we can go.”   
  
  
“I have an idea,” Luna said softly, turning away from the crater and back to the garden. “Why don’t you and Jeff wear a couple of those roses at our wedding?”   
  
  
Michael was stunned. “But those were your mom’s…are you sure?”   
  
  
“It’ll be like she’s there with us, you know?”   
  
  
“I think that’s an amazing idea,” he said, kissing her tenderly/ “I’ll do that then, and get some for Harry and Ron too. And….”   
  
  
“And what?” Luna asked.   
  
  
“And maybe we should bring one to your dad.”   
  
  
Luna considered the thought, staring at the red plants and thinking hard. “I think he’ll like that. I think he’ll like you too.”   
  
  
“So five then,” Michael said, shutting his eyes as a blast of cold air hit them.   
  
  
“I had another thought,” Luna said, eyes wide and shivering. Michael quickly took off his jacket and handed it to her, conjuring a new one for himself. “Strange how many have hit me since we got here, maybe my home was a hotbed for Knacky activity. Maybe that's how Mum was able to manage her people at STRIKE from so far away.”  
  
  
“Yeah?”   
  
  
“Maybe…” She looked up at the gorgeous house, staring at its easternmost wall, where Michael knew her room had been as a child. “You said Daddy still owned this house?”   
  
  
“Yeah, he couldn’t bear to let it go.”   
  
  
“Do you think that, maybe, he might sell us the house?” she asked, becoming more excited with each word. “I mean, it’s so pretty, and I'm sure he wouldn’t ask for much…we could live here, after I graduate and your mission is done.”   
  
  
Michael joined Luna in gazing up at the house. He was shocked to hear what he was hearing…didn’t it bother her? Michael couldn’t believe she actually wanted to live her. Visiting was one thing, making it their home was another. But....it was certainly beautiful, and it made Luna happy, so –  
  
  
“That would be great. This isn’t far from my parents, whether or not that’s a good thing I don’t know…” He trailed off, and succeeded in making Luna laugh. “It would be great to be back home. I'm starting to get a little nostalgic.”   
  
  
“I think I'm starting to, as well,” Luna said, obviously relieved he had been so inviting about her idea, “So we’ll ask Dad?”   
  
  
“Yeah, but maybe we should wait till after he accepts that this wedding is going to happen. I don’t think he’d be very willing to sell us a house if he doesn’t even want us to be together.”   
  
  
“You know, I think he does really” Luna said thoughtfully, “I think he actually is happy for us, but he’s angry you went against his wishes and told me the truth. I suppose we’ll find out soon.”   
  
  
“So you’re ready to go?” Michael asked.   
  
  
“Once more into the breach,” Luna said, grasping his hand and turning into darkness.


	23. Chapter 23: Five Quite Bitter Beings

Owen walked with purpose, humming happily to himself, flinging the iron gates before him apart with a wave of his good hand. The loud clang as each half of the gate swung back and forth startled a pair of white peacocks a little distance away in the courtyard. Owen snorted at them and at their owner.   
  
  
“Just when I was starting to like you Malfoy…” he muttered to himself, shoving his hands in his pockets and following the little path up to the handsome house. Owen paused a moment at the door and grit his teeth together. He knew he was playing with fire, but felt his talents and knowledge rendered him fireproof. He pushed open the door and stepped into the manor. A short walk placed him in a room with a long table flanked by at least twenty chairs, though it was occupied by only four others.   
  
“Owen Stetnas.”   
  
The Dark Lord was wearing the same pitiful imitation of a smile he always did when he thought something was going his way. Owen threw out his hands and gave a small, almost taunting bow. He knew how far he could push Voldemort without actually breaking his restraint – the Dark Lord enjoyed having him around, he knew. He just had to be careful. He raised his eyes to Voldemort.  
  
He was smirking, and so was Owen.   
  
Owen took count of the others in the room. Sitting on the left side of the table were the two Malfoy men. Owen’s smirk became a grin as he noticed Draco’s face. He had met the younger boy a few times since he had returned home from Hogwarts and so far he very much enjoyed terrifying Malfoy Junior. Beside him sat Lucius Malfoy, who nodded silently at Owen and placed a tight grip on his son’s shoulder. In between them and Voldemort stood Severus Snape, one of Owen’s least favorite people in the world. Owen hated everything about the prick – his snively tone, his quiet observance, and most of all he hated the fact that Snape suspected him. He knew Snape suspected he was a traitor. In that moment, Owen resolved to do something about it.  
  
Owen’s eyes swept over them all – over Draco, who he knew was horrified by him, over Lucius, with whom he felt something of a kinship due to their similar interests, over Snape, who he knew looked down on him and despised him, and over the Dark Lord, who knew better than to try to replace Bellatrix with him, but who he knew respected him in his own way.  
  
“Some party,” Owen began, striding in and dropping into the closest chair, sitting all the way across from Voldemort. “Except I don't see cake. Or Narcissa,” he added to Lucius. “Is Narcissa going to burst out of a cake?”  
  
Lucius shook his head at Owen. “No…my wife has gone out to buy gifts with Mrs. Crabbe.”  
  
“Oh yeah, right, just wouldn’t be a Death Eater Christmas without some presents under the tree, yeah?” Owen laughed. “What, a new set of thumbscrews for you and maybe a ‘My First Broomstick’ for Draco?”  
  
Draco glared at him. “You’ve got no right to talk to me that way. You're, what, two years older than me? And worse, you don't even have a Dark Mark!” His eyes were wide and a hush fell.  
  
Owen’s grin relaxed into an unreadable expression. He stood up, internally enjoying himself greatly but projecting nothing but coolness. He deliberately pushed his seat back into the table, and began walking as slowly as possible towards the Malfoys, all eyes watching him. He stopped a few feet away from where Draco sat, now paler than ever and with one hand inside his pocket, obviously clutching his wand. For a moment, Owen just looked at him. Then his grin reappeared and he began to laugh.   
  
“Seriously?” he said between chuckles. He shook his head. “Seriously? Draco, if I wanted to kill you, that wand would be as helpful as your junk. Which I don't know, might help you a  _little_ , I mean, I might be less inclined to attack you if you were waving it at me or something…eh, but anyway.” He rolled up the sleeve on his left arm to the elbow. His forearm was blank, but his hand was covered by a glove. He took hold of it with his other hand. “I have my mark, Draco,” Owen said slowly. He yanked on the glove, pulling it off in one motion. Draco stared at Owen’s artificial hand, and Owen didn’t blame him. It wasn’t the first option he had been given.  
  
Owen’s replacement hand almost looked real, it was covered with what resembled real skin, but the covering wasn’t complete. The spot on his wrist where it connected to his arm, as well as his knuckles, was bare, faintly glowing rods visible inside of the hand, bending and moving as Owen flexed his hand, showing it off. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Voldemort watching him with contempt and felt a tinge of victory.  
  
When he had lost his hand fighting fucking Michael Jacobs, Owen had gone to the only person he knew was capable of fixing it – Voldemort. Owen didn’t need Legilmency – though he was pretty good at it – to understand the Dark Lord had his own motives for helping him. Owen Stetnas had no problem making a deal with the devil, but he was a damn good negotiator himself and wouldn’t take the first offer on the table.   
  
He had seen the one that was always whining, Wormtail, with a glowing, shimmering replacement hand early on in working with the Death Eaters. Before Sirius Black had killed him, at least. Owen knew that thing he always thought of as a novelty sex toy was a death sentence to its owner. Voldemort giveth, Voldemort taketh away. Owen would work with Voldemort happily – but he was not a slave. Owen had not-so-delicately told Voldemort he knew what he was doing (he had been in quite a bit of pain at the time) and asked for a prosthetic that would never strangle him to death in his sleep. At his cry of  “Give me a hand!” Voldemort had complied and aided him in constructing the model that was now covering back up with the glove.  
  
He would never be Voldemort’s slave, like the rest of them.  
  
“Can you still feel things?” Draco asked after a moment.  
  
“Oh, I feel all kinds of things,” Owen replied with a wink mostly directed at Lucius.   
  
“We know all too well Stetnas would have already taken his own life if he could no longer grope,” Snape said disdainfully.  
  
Owen didn’t bother looking at him. “Have you ever touched a girl, Snape?” he asked easily. “Let’s make a deal – you teach me how to brew Polyjuice Potion and I’ll tell you what sex feels like.”  
  
“Enough,” Voldemort said quietly, as Snape looked furious and Lucius amused. “Lucius, I do not care for my most senior Death Eaters to be tittering as small girls. Owen, Severus, you will kindly save your vitriol for our enemies. Now then…” Voldemort’s tone suddenly became dangerous and everyone in the room tensed, “what are you doing here Owen? You were not summoned.”  
  
Owen took care to make sure his glove was refitted perfectly before he answered, finally looking directly at the Dark Lord. “I came here to get something.”  
  
“And what is that?” Voldemort whispered.  
  
“Knowledge,” Owen replied very seriously.  
  
“You want information?” Voldemort asked.  
  
“No. I already have information. I want to use it to gain knowledge.”  
  
The Dark Lord was obviously beginning to feel impatient with him, but Owen knew speaking openly before the others would ruin everything. He felt something in his stomach he hadn’t in a while.  
  
“Speak plainly, Stetnas,” the Dark Lord commanded. “What do you know, and what do you want?”  
  
“I know what you’ve done,” Owen said quietly but clearly. He continued his unbroken eye contact and knew Voldemort had begun to search his thoughts. “I want to know how.”  
  
Five seconds of silence passed, during which something changed on Voldemort’s snake-face. Whatever humanity it had retained burned away as the two Dark Wizards locked eyes.  
  
“Leave. Now.”  
  
There was a pause when all three Death Eaters seemed not to know if they were being addressed, but evidently experience had taught them to play it safe, as the Malfoys rose from their chairs and Snape headed for the door. Lucius lingered a moment.   
  
“My Lord…?”  
  
“Get out.”  
  
Voldemort’s lips did not move as he hissed at him. Within seconds, all three men had escaped and only Owen and Voldemort remained, Owen leaning against the table, Voldemort still seated at the head. The Dark Lord steepled his fingers together in front of himself, crossing the tips over what looked like a stack of papers. Owen waited for him to speak, at the same time relishing the fact that those three with their Dark Marks, those three who looked down on him, fled so quickly in his presence.  
  
“How?”  
  
“Logic,” Owen replied with a shrug. “Just logic – and an extensive knowledge of the Dark Arts and how to fight them. Auror training comes in handy sometimes...shitty gig though, ‘preciate you getting me out of there. At least here I get weekends off and sick pay.”  
  
The Dark Lord was having none of his humor, so Owen switched tactics. “I want you to show me how.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Well, I would think the benefits would be obvious…” Owen said, unable to help himself. He knew he was infuriating the most powerful Wizard on the planet, but the very act gave him a thrill even battle couldn’t match.  
  
“Why should I teach you, boy?” Voldemort snarled.  
  
“Because…I already know the basics,” Owen suggested. Voldemort was immediately on his feet, wand drawn and aimed at Owen. His own reaction time was almost as good – his wand was pointed at the chandelier above the Dark Lord’s head.  
  
“Are you threatening me?”  
  
Owen laughed. “Threaten you? Why the fuck would I do that? No, I'm showing you. I'm showing you that  _you_ want this. You want me to learn because  _you_ want me to help you. You want me to kill for you. Fine. I’m fine with that. But if that’s how I'm going to spend my time…I want insurance.”  
  
The Dark Lord stared at him a moment longer, calculating. Then he nodded. “Any catalyst will do.”  
  
“No, it won't,” Owen replied, balling up both hands and lowering his wand. “Jacobs. It’s going to be Michael Jacobs.”  
  
“And you still plan to capture Luna Lovegood, if you succeed?” Voldemort asked. Owen’s maniac grin lit up again.  
  
“Capture is one word for it.”  
  
Voldemort put away his wand and placed a hand on the papers in front of him. “Here.” He slid what turned out to be a magazine across the table to Owen with the flick of a finger. Owen picked it up and immediately laughed.  
  
“The hell is this?” he snorted. “Don't tell me I’ll find instructions in here? Or is this your bathroom reading? Seriously, what the hell is  _The Quibbler_?”  
  
  
“A magazine run by a man less sane than you,” Voldemort replied. Owen rolled his eyes.  
  
“Yeah, right. Maybe when I'm sober. Why do you have it?”  
  
“That man’s name is Xenophillius Lovegood. Is that a simple enough connection for you?”  
  
Owen stopped laughing, now intrigued and excited. He began flipping through the paper with vigor, searching for a gentleman’s section. “This is just ridiculous!” Owen cried, holding up a page displaying an article about something called a Moon Frog. Voldemort nodded.  
  
“The man is delusional, yes.”  
  
“No, not what he's writing,” Owen said, shaking his head and staring at the page again. “How the hell does someone like that make a girl like Luna?” He looked back to Voldemort. “Her father’s a loony, and not the good kind. I guess she turned out pretty well, all things considered. Well, the important parts turned out well.”  
  
Voldemort narrowed his eyes at him and Owen was fairly sure they somehow got redder. “It is likely both Michael Jacobs and Luna Lovegood will be at his home for the holiday. Strike then.”  
  
“He actually did it,” Owen said, completely amazed. “He actually put his own address in here to send fan mail to….” He was having a hard time not bursting out in laughter at how stupid they all were, the only thing keeping him in check was the fact that their stupidity had somehow managed to defeat him so far. “You coming?” he asked Voldemort indifferently.  
  
“No,” Voldemort said at once. “This is a very…private thing you are doing. I will show you the method, but it is up to you to complete the task. But Stetnas…we will not receive a second chance at this. If you fail, we will not be able to touch them there again. Do not make me regret this decision.”  
  
“Fan mail…” Owen repeated to himself, barely listening to Voldemort. He crushed the magazine in his right hand and lit it on fire, still holding it as it started to burn. “I’ll do him last,” he added to no one. “First Michael dies, then I get Luna…I’ll save Mr. Moon Frog for last….”  
  
“I applaud your conviction, Owen Stetnas,” Voldemort said in a hiss. “But I feel an…obligation…to warn you. What you intend to do, it is not a choice you can come back from.”  
  
“I’m aware,” Owen said very seriously. He inclined his head and spoke slowly, his eyes fixed on his hands. “Our situation is…a unique one. So far, it’s worked, you and I together. But really, we’re not very similar – once you get past the Dark magic and general malaise, at least. All that aside, though, there is one thing we have in common. We agree on one very important thing: humanity has become…a tiresome burden.”


	24. Chapter 24: Burning Bridges

Michael couldn’t help but chuckle as Luna immediately regretted not putting on warmer clothes, the chilly English air tearing into her and Michael. Snow covered the ground and fell fast onto their heads, and Luna’s teeth chattered as she shivered. They had lost a few hours in their trip, and it was now evening, which meant that it was nearly dark.   
  
“It’s really – very – cold,” she said, trying to still her teeth. “I wasn’t thin – thinking about it when we left.”   
  
“Here, bundle up,” Michael said, ice forming a kind of cap on his head. He drew his wand and waved it. Two pairs of thick, wooly pants appeared out of thin air, followed by a pair of sweaters, one black and one pink.   
  
Luna caught the clothes and hurriedly pulled them on over the long sleeve t-shirt and tight jeans she had on, Michael doing the same.   
  
“That’s a wonderful bit of magic,” Luna said, smiling and reaching into the pocket of the jeans she was already wearing. She pulled out the same pair of gloves she had worn on the trip to St. Lucia, “thank you.  
  
“Well, here we are,” Luna said, her voice full of apprehension. “This is my house, I hope Daddy will be home.”   
  
“The lights are on,” Michael muttered, looking up at the cylindrical building. Light was shining out the windows, though only on the first floor. “You should probably be the one to knock….”   
  
“I'm looking forward to it,” she said. She led them on their trudge through the snow up to her home, staring nervously up at it. Michael wasn’t sure how he felt about the situation – it was certainly an odd one. Luna was optimistic as ever, but Michael didn’t know how to feel. Unlike Luna, he had spent the last seven years thinking of her and her father, he had liked Xeno very much, and Luna’s father had always liked him. But now what would he think? He had never interacted with him as a grown man, much less one who intended to oppose his wishes and marry his daughter. Mostly Michael felt awkward and for once decided to let Luna do most of the talking.  
  
They reached the door, passing several signs along the way, and Luna took a deep breath. She quickly looked sideways at Michael, swallowed, and rapped her fist on the door.   
  
A full minute passed, and Michael wondered if Xenophillius wasn’t home. Then another thought occurred to him: Perhaps he knew precisely who it was, and was allowing them to shudder and freeze on his doorstep out of spite.   
  
Luna seemed to be considering the same dreadful thought.   
  
“Come on,” she said sadly, “let’s go back to your parents’ house. Dad doesn’t want to see us.”   
  
“You sure?” Michael asked.   
  
She didn’t answer, she only gripped his numb hand in hers and turned her back on the door, on her father. They got a few steps away from the door before they heard it creak open, and a tired voice,   
  
“Luna? Luna is that you?”   
  
Xenophillius had poked his head out the door and was looking around for his daughter. He squinted at Michael and Luna’s outlines, trying to discern who it was.   
  
Luna stopped slowly, glancing over at Michael, who nodded and jerked his head in her father’s direction.   
  
“Yes Dad, I'm back.”   
  
“And with you…is that…?” He sounded both aggravated and gloomy.   
  
“It’s Michael.”   
  
“I suppose you should come inside.” His voice was colder than the frozen air whipping their hair and clothes around.   
  
He retreated back into the house, and after a moment’s hesitation, Luna and Michael followed him. Michael shut the door securely behind him, gesturing for Luna to lead the way into the strange curved room they had stepped into. Michael glanced around the room and recognized Luna and Xeno’s way of life immediately. Through its association with Luna, the house already charmed him a little.  
  
“Let’s go upstairs,” Xeno murmured, tramping loudly up an iron staircase in the dead center of the room.   
  
They pursued him up the stairs, into a maze like room, filled with junk stacked on top of other junk. A large printing press sat in the corner, though it was not running. Xeno lit the lamps around the room and cleared the rubbish off of three chairs, motioning for them to take either of the seats he did not drop into.   
  
Looking closely him, it was clear that Xenophillius hadn’t shaved in a few days. His hair was dirty and tangled, his clothes stained and filthy. He looked miserable and depressed, except for the bit of fury that he directed at Michael.   
  
“So, Michael you have disobeyed my wishes and altered Luna’s memories, even though I expressly forbade it. I’d say you have made the worst possible impression on me after all this time.”   
  
“He didn’t alter them,” Luna answered for him, calm despite the anger her father projected. “He restored them. He told me the truth and helped me see it for myself, you can understand that, that's what you do – help people see the truth.”   
  
“Which is the exact opposite of what I wanted for you.” Xeno was not looking at Luna, but had locked eyes with Michael, who had still not spoken. “STRIKE got your mother killed, Luna. I won't let you follow her. You’re all I have left.”   
  
“I'm not with STRIKE, Dad,” Luna said imploringly, “That was the condition Michael gave me for telling me the truth. He wouldn’t tell me unless I promised not to get involved with STRIKE. I’d be very happy to turn out like Mum, I really would, but I'm not Mum. I can continue what she wanted though. If I do…it’s like she never left.”   
  
“If you’re not with them, then who?” Xeno asked, now staring at his daughter.   
  
“Me,” Michael finally spoke.   
  
“With you?” Xeno repeated loudly, his eyes flaring up just like Luna’s did sometimes. “What does that mean?”   
  
“It means I love him,” Luna said plainly. “And he loves me back. He nearly died to protect me, on St. Lucia.”   
  
“But whose fault is it that you were there?” Xeno answered, pointing a finger at Michael, who had no answer.   
  
“It’s not about fault. He didn’t want me, or anyone else to go! But we’re his friends, we went anyway. I couldn’t stand not going, do you know how worried I’d have been?” Apparently by accident, Xenophillius nodded at this, for a second later he resumed his angry glare.  
  
“Dad, I'm in danger anyway, we all are. Michael taught me to know how to face that danger, and how to win! After the Ministry and with Mum being who she was, I'm one of the Death Eaters’ biggest targets, they’re bound to come after me eventually. But if we’re together,” she gripped Michael’s hand firmly, “there’s not a person in the world that could hurt me.”   
  
“Your mother believed the same thing, Luna,” Xenophillius said, finally quieting down. “She didn’t plan to die either. She was the most powerful witch I had ever seen…but they still got her. They still killed Elysina….”  
  
“If you give up, if you try to force me to give up, then she really is gone,” Luna said sadly. “Mum died to protect me, I know she did, I remember it all. If she hadn’t been so strong, I would have died too. What if I have children one day, and I have to protect them? I’d want to be just as strong as Mum was. Mum ensured I got to live a long, happy life. Michael only wants to do the same.”  
  
“Do you love my Luna?” Xeno asked suddenly. Michael looked up, startled, and was searching for how this could be a trap.   
  
“More than life itself,” he eventually said. “If you don’t believe me, I hope this will convince you.” He drew his wand and touched it to his own forehead.   
  
“ _Legilimenis_   _Projectarus._ ”   
  
All Michael’s thoughts were immediately displayed plainly and openly to Xenophillius. Everything about his friends, his family, his mission, and his love, Luna. It was if a projector had been turned on inside Xeno’s mind, leaving Michael with no secrets from the man.   
  
Xenophillius blinked quickly, stunned at what he had seen: Love, genuine love. There was lust and desire mixed in, but the first and also the last thing on Michael’s mind was his daughter, her smile, her laugh, her everything. He…loved her.  
  
“You feel the same way about Michael, Luna?” he asked after a long pause, while Michael massaged his temple, eyes closed, now with a splitting headache.  
  
“I do.”   
  
Xeno looked searchingly into his daughter’s pale, but no longer innocent face. A young woman looked back at him, her hand still entangled with her lover’s.   
  
“Then I cannot in good conscience, be angry with you.” Michael’s head shot up, eyes wide open, staring at Xeno. Each word seemed to be carefully chosen, but sincere.   
  
“I'm sorry I refused to face the truth all those years Luna, but even more so I am sorry that I wouldn’t allow you to try and face it yourself. Michael,” he faced him, a small smile beginning to form on his thin face, “when Luna said that you two were coming here, my original plan was to throw you out of the house into the blizzard, and hope Luna would forget about you. I owe you an apology as well. I…I have I already lost one girl to the Death Eaters, I'm so afraid I’ll lose Luna too.”   
  
“I give you my word,” Michael said, once again looking into his eyes, “That as long as I live, you will never have to fear for your daughter’s safety.” It was a little over-the-top and Gryffindor for Michael, but he knew what was necessary to soothe the man’s worries, for he often battled similar demons.  
  
Xeno sighed, looking amused now. “You really haven't changed one bit, have you Michael? Honestly, you remind me of Elysina. Strong willed, powerful, and willing to do anything to protect Luna.”  
  
He was grinning widely, and Michael couldn’t help but grin himself. Luna however, simply looked mystified.   
  
“So, you’re okay with us getting married?” she asked her father, who had stood up and was searching for something among the garbage.   
  
“Yes, I suppose I am,” he said, locating what he was looking for. He straightened up, holding a leather book in his hands. He blew the dust off it and held it out to Luna.   
  
“What is this?” she asked, opening the cover.   
  
“A photo album,” Xeno said, watching Luna flip through the pages. Michael stood up and was examining it from over her shoulder. “Your mother made this for you. It was supposed to be your eleventh birthday present.”   
  
Luna gasped and looked up at her father, then Michael, her eyes filled with tears. The pages were filled with pictures, some black and white, some color, all moving, of Michael and Luna as children. Brushing away the dampness in his eyes, Michael couldn’t help but laugh at the photo of his six year old self dangling by his legs from a set of monkey bars, while Luna watched in awe.   
  
“I suppose this will have to be your wedding present Luna,” Xeno said sadly, “I'm afraid the  _Quibbler’s_  not selling like it used to…”   
  
Luna glanced at Michael and took a breath. It was rather strange for Michael to watch Luna be so talkative and assertive, yet he was the one out of his element and for all intents and purposes meeting her father for the first time. He discovered it was somewhat relaxing to let his fiancé handle fighting and debating while he examined drapes and the weather outside, but here he felt the need to intervene.  
  
“We’ll ask him later,” he told Luna quietly. Then he turned to Xenophillius, mustering all his seriousness, afraid Xeno would think he was making fun of him. Michael had been saving his big gun for the proper moment and decided this was the perfect time to deploy it. “About your paper… I think I have an idea. Would an interview with an eyewitness to a Crumple Horned Snorkack sell a few more issues?”   
  
“Of course,” he said quickly, “But who has seen one…?”   
  
“I have,” Michael replied, raising an eyebrow.   
  
If there was still any doubt in Xenophillius’ mind that Michael was not meant for Luna, it seemed to be erased completely then.   
  
The next few hours were spent in laughter and reminiscing, all anger and betrayal forgotten. Xenophillius uncovered a couch that had been hidden in a corner and levitated it over the mounds of useless items, insisting Michael and Luna sit together. Michael found talking to Luna’s father just as pleasant as he had as a child, if a little more mentally taxing, for he had to constantly pull information from the back of his head to follow a conversation Luna and Xeno would have regarding an obscure animal or phenomena, like the Ancient Bovine or the Vanishing Island of Windermere.   
  
He was so unexpectedly delighted that he didn’t even comment when they decided to go up to bed and Michael and his daughter both entered Luna’s bedroom to sleep that night.   
  
The three days they spent at Xeno’s house were much less eventful than the trio they had spent at Michael’s parents’ ranch. They squandered most of their time simply talking happily to each other, but after a while Michael became a little restless at being cooped up so long, and suggested they visit Harry and Ron, as the Burrow was not far.   
  
The Weasleys were surprised, but pleased to see them, all three of them, standing together, not fighting or yelling. There seemed to be enough shouting in the house already, namely between Harry and Ginny.   
  
“So your Dad’s alright with this now?” Ron asked Luna as they, Harry, and Michael headed up the stairs, onto the landing above, and down the hall to Ron’s room, leaving Xeno to talk with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, while Ginny glowered at them all.   
  
“Yes, he’s actually very excited, I think he’s happy,” she said, stepping over the threshold of the door Ron held open, followed by Michael and Harry.   
  
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Ron mumbled once everyone had entered. “Bathroom….”   
  
“So, Harry,” Michael said professionally, taking a seat next to Luna on Ron’s bed, facing Harry, “been screwing around with Ron’s sister?”   
  
“Umm.” Luna was looking at him, head tilted a little, looking curious. “Umm, yeah, I guess I have.”   
  
“And now she’s mad at you…why?” Michael asked.   
  
“I don’t know… She just started yelling when Ron and I said she couldn’t be in the Wolf Pack…”   
  
“That is a good way to make a girl mad,” Luna pointed out, glancing quickly at Michael. He rubbed the back of his neck and pretended to ignore her, focusing on Harry.   
  
“Wolf Pack….that sounds a lot less cool as we get older…well, I know a good way to win a girl back,” he said with his usual confidence. “Invite her to a wedding.”   
  
“She can come?” Harry asked swiftly, “I thought it was supposed to be quiet, just us and your families.”   
  
“Yeah, why not?” Michael shrugged, “She’s Ron’s sister and your girlfriend. Or something resembling a girlfriend, at least. What’s one more person anyway?”   
  
“And Ginny’s always been nice to me,” Luna interjected quietly. “Even when no one else was, she was always nice…”   
  
“So she’s coming then,” Michael said, his voice as firm as his grip on Luna’s hand, “We’ll be offended if she doesn’t.”   
  
“We definitely don’t want that,” Harry said quickly, “I’ll go ask her then… I think I can hear her screaming my name, actually…” He sighed, squared his shoulders, and marched out the door with the demeanor of a soldier going to war. Ron passed him on his way back in.   
  
“Where’s Harry going?” he asked, filling in Harry's space on his bed.   
  
“To ask your sister out,” Michael replied.   
  
“He- what?” Ron said, looking baffled and confused. “He’s asking out Ginny?”   
  
“Yes, he likes her a rather lot,” Luna said, “I think she like him too, most of the time at least…”   
  
They stopped talking and listened hard. The shouting below them had ceased, though Michael had been in enough battles to know silence could be more dangerous than thunderous noise. Then a high pitched shriek pierced their ears, making them wince.   
  
“Where exactly is he…?” Ron began worriedly.  
  
“To the wedding,” Michael stated. “So now it’ll be the seven of us, your sister, my parents, and Luna’s dad. Too bad we can't let Kevin or a few other STRIKE friends come… But, whatever. You guys will do, I suppose…” He was joking, but knew Luna did feel a little bad. Michael didn’t though. Over the past half year he had made better friends in Harry, Ron, and Hermione than he had with anyone in STRIKE, though he retained a selection of good friends there as well.  
  
Ginny rushed into the room, Harry trailing behind her. Harry was smiling, looking enjoyably surprised. He winked at Michael and gave him a thumbs up with the hand Ginny wasn’t holding. Ginny was beaming at Michael and Luna and she dropped Harry’s hand to hug Luna.   
  
“Oh, I'm so happy for you guys!” she squealed, “I wish you could have told me, but I understand! And now I get to go anyway! Thanks so much!” She dragged a befuddled Harry out of the room, kicking the door closed behind them.   
  
Michael gave Ron a smirk, but Ron didn’t notice, as his face was buried in his hands. Luna was humming the wedding march. Michael fell backwards onto the bed and while Luna hummed and Ron debated, Michael marveled at the fact that by this time tomorrow he and Luna would be husband and wife. He worried, but not about the wedding. Michael was confident the wedding would go over well, it was funded by Sarah and given certain designs by Luna, so he knew the ceremony would be great, and he and Jeff had worked together in secret one night while he and Luna slept at his parents’ to put together a post-wedding surprise he thought Luna would like.  
  
No, it wasn’t the thought of marriage that unnerved him – it was STRIKE. For whatever reason, Michael had become convinced that his wedding and STRIKE were intertwined. There was no reason anyone within the organization should find out about his marriage, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that once Luna Lovegood became Luna Jacobs, there would be some sort of reckoning. But at the moment…he didn’t really care. Tomorrow, he and Luna would finally join together in everything they had ever wanted.  
  
Only one night remained for the couple, and they spent much of it at Xenophillius’ after returning from the Burrow. The wedding was to be at ten o clock in the morning the next day near Michael's parents. The early-in-the-day ceremony was necessary due to the time shift Luna, her father, and basically everyone but Michael would be experiencing coming to America. Michael planned to go back home for the night before the wedding and sleep for as long as he could, but found himself delayed by Luna and by his own desires. Before he knew it, it was midnight and he was falling asleep beside Luna by the barely flowing river that snaked its way around the Lovegoods’ home.  
  
Michael yawned. “Remind me why we’re sitting out here in the cold?”  
  
“Because it’s so peaceful,” Luna said happily. Despite this claim, she scooted a bit closer to Michael. “It’s a shame it didn’t get any colder this year, sometimes the river freezes and you can walk on it.” She nodded down at the river on either side of them.  
  
Michael yawned again and lay back onto Bottom Bridge, pulling Luna down beside him. It was certainly chilly out and the young couple was each bundled up as they lay out together under the moonlight, just barely in viewing distance of Luna’s house. Xenophillius had gone to bed about an hour ago and Luna had suggested they spend some time together down by the river. Michael had halfheartedly reminded her it was very late, but inevitably agreed to the nighttime trip with has fiancé.  
  
“You're right,” Michael admitted to Luna. “It is pretty nice out here…especially with you.” She smiled without looking at him, instead staring up at the full moon. “You came out here a lot as a kid, right?”  
  
“Yes, I did…Dad would take me down here when I was very little, and when I got older, I would come here when I couldn’t sleep at night.”  
  
“Why couldn’t you sleep?” Michael asked her. “Too many dreams of handsome young men invading your mind?”  
  
“No,” Luna replied thoughtfully, “my dreams are usually about birds. Birds and snakes. But a few nights ago I actually had a dream about a Quidditch match.”  
  
“Oh really?” Michael asked, rolling over onto his side to look at her.  
  
“It wasn’t like a normal game though…there was a lot of each of us, ten of us on each team, playing against each other,” Luna told him.  
  
“Twenty of us playing a match?” Michael repeated. “Well that's odd…must’ve been a crazy game.”  
  
“It was total chaos,” Luna replied, finally looking over at him. “Very hard to make sense of things, but for some reason, none of us had scored a goal. But then one of you got the Quaffle and finally put it through the hoop…but the one of me playing Keeper didn’t try to block it. She got the ball when it came back into play, but instead of throwing it to anyone, she took off across the pitch –”  
  
“Isn't that illegal?” Michael asked.  
  
“Yes, but so is playing with ten copies of the same person on each team. Or I assume it is at least. But yes, the Keeper Luna took the ball all the way downfield and scored on your Keeper just like you had on her. Twenty of us and two goals…I wonder what it means?”  
  
“Probably that Owen Stetnas is standing right behind you.”  
  
Michael's entire body chilled and he jumped to his feet, his hand racing to his pocket for his wand. Luna was up just as quickly, looking even paler than usual. They each raised their wand and aimed it straight at the man standing at the end of the bridge, who in turn pointed his wand at them. They drew a bit closer to each other.  
  
“Isn't this cozy?” Owen asked, looking around at the area. “Nice place for a date? I mean,  _I_ wouldn’t take a girl here, since anyone looking to attack us could just torch the bridge and we’d be done for…don't worry,” he added with a laugh as Michael tensed noticeably, “if I wanted to send you both to a watery grave, I’d have already done it.”  
  
“You didn’t come here to kill us?” Michael demanded. He stared at his former partner, afraid of him for the first time in his life. The Owen Stetnas he had known was dark and strange, but this new Owen was more menacing than even Voldemort in his own way. Though they had only fought once, Michael was absolutely certain Owen would complicate his life until one of them died.  
  
“Of course I did,” Owen said, shaking his head. “I'm going to fucking  _murder_ you, Michael. And Luna…well, maybe not you. You're very pretty, you know that? Damn, isn't it  _great_ having a job where you get paid to do things you’d happily do for free?”  
  
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Michael shouted at him. Luna jumped at the volume of his voice; they had been speaking in near whispers till now.  
  
“Well, I'm missing a hand, for one thing,” Owen frowned. He raised his arm and shook back his sleeve. He had gained some kind of prosthetic hand, but Michael couldn’t tell much about it, as he wore a glove over it just like he had in Harry’s vision. “I’m also nearsighted.”  
  
“I think he meant what kind of madman you must be to want to kill us,” Luna put in. Michael hated hearing the coolness in her voice, it was so unlike her. But at the rate they were going with this war, he worried he might have to get used to it.  
  
“Now calm down there Luna,” Owen said. “I already said I only want to kill you if I have to. Or if I get sick of you or decide you're not that attractive.”  
  
“You think you can take me for yourself?” she asked him, her eyes wide.  
  
Owen laughed out loud at her. Even in the dark, Michael saw him roll his eyes. The last minute had pushed Michael near the point of attacking, and he was already deciding between curses.  
  
“I'm going to tear you apart,” Michael snarled at Owen. He was shaking with anger, and it only got worse the more he thought about what Owen was implying. “You won't put a hand on Luna.”  
  
Owen smirked. “Whatever…I do what I want.”  
  
“ _Avada Kedavra_!” Michael yelled, his wandtip flashing green. Luna shot off a red spell at the exact same moment, though wordlessly. Owen flipped Luna’s curse up and into the distance with his wand, and met Michael's Killing Curse with a quick one of his own. He chuckled at the end of the exchange.  
  
“You two don't really think you can match up with me, do you…? Give it fifty years and maybe we’ll see. Oh wait, no you we won't, ‘cause you’ll be dead…I forget stuff…I’m crazy and all, you know?”  
  
“So if you hate me this much, why didn’t you just kill me before I knew you were here?” Michael demanded.  
  
“What fun would that be?” Owen asked back. “Then you die thinking you're better than me, and I never get to rub it in your face you can't handle me.”  
  
Michael said nothing for a moment. Then he turned to Luna, keeping his wand trained on Owen. “Go home Luna,” he said quietly. He shivered a bit, from a combination of the battle and the cold air, though thanks to the adrenaline pumping through him, he barely noticed the chill.  
  
“You're kidding, aren’t you?” Luna said, staring at him. “Your jokes are usually funny, but I don't see anything funny about leaving you alone with  _him_.”  
  
“I can out-duel him, don't worry about it,” Michael said in a rush. He gave her a confident smile he immediately knew she wouldn’t believe.  
  
“First thing you’re going to do is a low aimed Stunner!” Owen put in loudly, drawing their attention back to him. He was grinning at them again. “Then you're going to use that ground splitting curse you like so much when I dodge the Stunner.”  
  
Michael rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand, looking between Owen and Luna. “Is that really what your plan was?” she asked him. Michael only replied with a head jerk she knew meant yes. “He can't read your mind, can he?”  
  
“No, he’s just really predictable all the time!” Owen answered, still grinning. “Now Luna, I’ve never really fought her…I have no idea what  _she’s_ liable to do! You really have a much better chance of killing me with her here Michael. Now’s not the time to try to impress her!”  
  
“He’s right,” Luna breathed. She looked down, trying not to let Owen hear exactly what she was saying. “He  _doesn’t_ have any idea what I’ll do. Go, now.”  
  
“What?” Michael asked sharply.  
  
“Let's go now!” Luna repeated loudly, spinning to face Owen and blasting a blue wave of magic at him. His smile vanished and he did as well, the crack of Apparition splitting their ears.  
  
With no time to do anything else, Michael grabbed Luna’s arm and pulled her into a turn as well. They disappeared without fire, reappearing only a few feet from where they had stood. Michael knew Luna didn’t understand why he had had to do it. “Why – oh!”  
  
The exact spot they had stood on moments before was engulfed in a red light. The bridge’s handrail disintegrated into dust. “Just shoot!” Michael yelled. Luna didn’t seem to have any objection, as she hurried out “ _Lyvlnn_!” sending a series of orange magic bursts down the length of the bridge. Michael recognized it as a dangerous spell, but he wanted to be sure of a kill himself. “ _Avada Kedavra_!” His green jet flew off in the opposite direction of Luna’s.  
  
“Keep hold on me, we’re going again!” Michael hissed to Luna the second the spell left his wand. Before she could say a word, Luna was being crushed by blackness again, only to have frozen air burn her lungs again a second later. And once again, the piece of bridge they had just occupied was wiped out by a blast of red. Planks from the wooden bridge fell into the water a few feet below it.  
  
“Did you see where the spell came from?” Michael asked Luna desperately. His head swiveled, looking desperately in the darkness for Owen Stetnas.  
  
“No, I was too off balance from the Apparition,” she panted.  
  
“Next time we Disapparate, watch where his spell comes from,” Michael whispered. “We can't see him, but he can't see us. He’ll shoot at wherever this next spell comes from. I’ll be too busy with the magic to watch for him, but if you can see where he attacks from, hit him there. He’ll Apparate as soon as he shoots too though, so you have to be fast. Ready?”  
  
Luna took three slow seconds to process all that Michael had just told her, then nodded. “We’ll be fine,” she assured him.  
  
“Of course we will.  _Bombardo_!” he yelled, flailing his wand in a random direction. He then spun on the spot, thankful that Luna was thin and light enough for him to turn her somewhat easily. Going from the darkness of Apparition to the darkness of the night, Michael was as good as blind, though he halfway registered a white light exploding the ground where he had just been. “Did you see?”  
  
“No,” Luna said, shaking her head. “There’s not enough time for me to see after we reappear…he’s too quick.” Michael took a deep breath. Luna was an excellent duelist, but she had no experience in a fight like this, trying blindly to curse an enemy who couldn’t see anymore than she could.  
  
“Come out, come out wherever you are!” Owen’s voice broke through the night.  
  
Luna’s wide eyes flashed at Michael. He saw some fear in her face, but no more than any other person would show, including himself. But he also saw the determination he knew would get them through this fight. Michael knew it was time for him to step up and make a move, a drastic one.  
  
“Stay here,” Michael muttered. “I’m going to Apparate away and fire off a few spells. I’ll stay in my spot long enough for you to find him out there. Take him out the second you see him, okay?”  
  
“Are you sure?” Luna asked, obviously and understandably worried. She looked all around and Michael knew she was hoping to catch a glimpse of Owen before Michael had to risk being cursed by him.  
  
Michael half smiled, half sighed at her. “Am I ever? No, but I know what I have to do…just don't miss.” Luna nodded seriously.  
  
Michael took a deep breath and vanished, reappearing on the other side of the river. “ _Stupefy, Stupefy, Stupefy_!” he shouted, aiming in all directions but Luna’s. The second the spells left his wand, a yellow one was streaking through the night at him. Fighting back every instinct to dematerialize again, he held his ground and put up a quick Shield Charm, which absorbed the worst of the spell. Two more curses immediately followed it.  
  
As he concentrated on surviving Owen’s next attack, he saw a single jet of blue, thankfully not aimed anywhere near him. Luna had gotten a rough idea of where Owen was; now Michael just hoped she hit him before he figured out what the couple was doing.  
  
“Ah…ugh!” It took a great deal of Michael's power to deflect the two spells Owen had sent for him – the second pooled up on the tip of his wand as he tried to fling it away and for a moment Michael feared it might destroy his wand.  
  
And then Michael saw it. The Killing Curse was flying right at his face and he knew he had no time to conjure any kind of defense. He had to Disapparate but had no chance to pick another spot, he simply spun and vanished.  
  
The next thing he knew, his entire body was on fire. He was burning alive, yet he was so cold…and he couldn’t breathe. He flailed wildly – what kind of curse had Owen hit him with? Was this the result of the Killing Curse? Was this how the  _Avada Kedavra_ took a life? Darkness was overtaking him now, not the same darkness that he had used as cover in his battle with Owen, but a different kind of darkness, one that could only be perceived by a person about to become one with it.  
  
“ _Michael_!”  
  
Through the darkness, a sound. A voice. A voice, calling for him. Another chill swept over him, harsh and fierce. Something heavy hit him from behind. And then….nothing.  
  
******************************************************************************  
  
Michael opened his eyes. He didn’t know it, but it was the first time he had done so in hours. He quickly shut them again, as the light was very bright. He moved to rub his eyes, but found his arms pinned by his side. A ball of panic spread from his chest to the rest of his body…then he realized his arms were wrapped tightly in warm blankets. He was in bed, in a familiar room…the Lovegoods’ house.  
  
“It’s okay Michael, it’s okay. You're all right, you're here with me.”  
  
Luna was standing over him. She looked worried, but smiled upon seeing him acknowledge her. Michael struggled to untangle his arms from the blankets and worked to push himself up into a sitting position. He shook his head, which throbbed horribly.  
  
“Luna…what…what happened?” he asked blankly. “The last thing I remember, Owen used the Killing Curse and I had to Apparate out of the way…I didn’t have any time to decide where to go though, I just had to get out of the way. What happened?” he repeated. “Did you get him? Did he get me?” he added, looking himself up and down. As he did so, he was hit by a realization – he was naked under the blankets.  
  
“He’s gone,” Luna told him. She sat down on the bed next to him. “You Apparated into the river. I got him with my spell and it probably knocked him out, I could tell it connected, but I was more worried about you than him. I levitated you out of the water and onto the bank and used my wand to warm you as much as I could on the spot, it was so windy…I took you back to the house and left you with Dad while I went to see about Owen. He had already left…and a part of me is glad he  _was_ gone when I came back.”  
  
Michael groaned, but nodded understanding. “I know Loon, I don't blame you for not wanting to fight him alone again. I probably wouldn’t have let you go out there had I been conscious.”  
  
“I know,” Luna said simply. “But if you had been conscious, I wouldn’t have anyway. We would’ve been able to see to him together.”  
  
“You really saved my life again,” Michael told her. “I can't believe we almost got him….” It infuriated him that Owen had escaped because Luna had had to tend to him, but his head was too light to really feel the fury he knew should be there.  
  
“It’s all right,” Luna replied, placing a hand on his chest. “No one got hurt…except you, but we both know how little concern you have for your own health.” Michael couldn’t help but chuckle.  
  
The brief spurt of laughter sucked all air out of his lungs and left him even more lightheaded than before. He coughed. “Guess I should be a little more careful…I’ll be a married man soon, after all.”  
  
Luna smiled again. “That's right, you will.”  
  
Michael smiled back at her, but one thing was left on his mind. “Hey Loon…why am I naked?” He asked it plainly – being around Luna often made him speak this way.  
  
“Your clothes were drenched in that freezing water, I had to get you out of them.”  
  
“Oh thank God,” Michael sighed, laying back into his pillows. “So it was you, not your dad.”  
  
“Yes, it was me,” Luna shrugged. “I’ve seen you naked plenty of times, Dad hasn’t. I didn’t think you'd mind.”  
  
“Not at all,” Michael smirked. “I just prefer to be awake when we’re naked together.”  
  
“Oh don't worry, I wasn’t naked,” Luna assured him. “I don't think Dad would have been very happy. I haven't run around the house naked since I was a toddler.”  
  
“Yeah, I don't think your dad would like it much more if I took your place, either,” Michael muttered. “I should probably get some clothes on…warm ones.”  
  
“Do you think he’ll come back?” Luna asked him as she searched through Michael's bag for suitable clothes. “Owen? Or he’ll bring Lord Voldemort?” She pulled out a pair of underpants, pajama bottoms, and a shirt and turned to face him, looking worried.  
  
“He won't be able to,” Michael told her, taking the clothes from her and glad of the chance to reassure her. He rolled the heavy blankets off himself and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his clothes. Luna watched him with interest – both in his words and his body. “Give me a couple minutes to pull myself together and I’ll set up wards against him. You can help,” he added to her, tugging his arm through a tight sleeve. “I want double protection here.”  
  
“Will it be enough to keep them out?” Luna questioned. She spoke clearly, but her eyes were directly on Michael's crotch. Luna had never been shy about this kind of thing, but Michael didn’t mind, as it gave him room to operate the same way. He appreciated that she remained focus on the task at hand as well.  
  
“Now that he's been here once, it will be,” Michael answered. He held out his hand for his wand, and Luna immediately brought it from within the jacket she wore, good as new. “Defensive wards work better the more specific you can be with them,” he explained. Luna nodded with interest. “That's why all Wizards don't just put up ‘keep out bad guys’ wards and expect to be safe from Lord Voldemort. If you can be specific about who you're trying to keep out, what they want, and if the person has left their presence on the property before, the wards are much more powerful. We know precisely who’s after us and unfortunately we know what he wants, and with him firing off an army’s worth of spells here, we should be able to protect your dad and this house from Owen and Voldemort too. Jeff taught me all that,” he added as she looked at him curiously. “You might’ve figured it out by now, but he’s sort of a prod”  
  
“I'm ready,” Luna said confidently, drawing out her own wand. Michael nodded.  
  
“Let’s get to work then.” He walked her through the complicated protections and defenses he had learned in STRIKE and from his teacher at Salem Academy and soon he was certain no Dark Wizard would penetrate the home anytime soon. Satisfied with their work, Michael sat down on the bed, Luna joining him. They both stared up at the ceiling for a minute before Michael spoke.  
  
“Do you think he knew? Do you think he knew he was attacking us the night before our wedding? Or is our luck just that terrible?” Michael meant for it to sound as a joke, but couldn’t help the bitterness that came with the truth. Luna shook her head and smiled at him.   
  
“I don't think so,” she replied serenely. “I think all things considered, our luck is very good.” As his fiancé moved in to give him a fleeting but deep kiss, Michael couldn’t disagree.  
  
“I probably just made a great impression on your dad, huh?” Michael asked with a bit of embarrassment and annoyance. “I spend a day telling him I’ll protect you and won't let anyone hurt you, and a psychopath tries to drown us both in a river a few steps from his front lawn.”  
  
“No, I think the impression is all right,” Luna said dreamily. “I didn’t get hurt and in the end, I protected you. I think Dad might worry less now.”  
  
A little stung, Michael told her, “I don't think you understand dads, Loon. He’ll worry about you forever, even after we turn Voldemort to dust.”  
  
“I like that name,” Luna said happily.  
  
“And I like to feel like a man every now and again,” Michael said, this time able to fully communicate lack of seriousness. “Can't I pull you out of a freezing river for once?”  
  
“I hope you don't have to,” Luna said quietly, “but if you really want to feel like a man, you only have to wait until tomorrow night.”  
  
Just then, Michael felt like he could fight fifty Owen Stetnases.


	25. Chapter 25: The Unbreakable Vow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” He paused for a very serious moment as Michael and Luna stared into each other’s eyes. “Love never ends. I now declare you husband and wife.

Confident as they were in their wards, Michael and Luna decided it would be best to stay together for the night at Luna’s father. Michael was glad she had agreed to this – he was going to have a hard enough time sleeping without worrying about Luna and her dad. They slept as well as could be expected until about ten in the morning, at which time Michael finally began packing his things, Luna watching him, leaning up against her headboard.  
  
“It’s going to be three in the morning back home,” she said dreamily. “Will your parents be angry at you for coming in at that time?”  
  
“Nah,” Michael said, tugging with all his might on the zipper of his bag, now well overfull with his various clothing and person items. “They got used to it when I lived at home. How the hell did I get all this in here, anyway?”  
  
“Magic,” Luna replied.   
  
  
“Oh…yeah,” Michael muttered. He clapped his hands together and the pair of zippers zoomed to meet in the middle, finally sealing his luggage. “I'm…a little distracted today. Anyway. Seven hours, huh Loon?”  
  
“Six and a half,” Luna answered without looking at the clock.  
  
“I can't believe this is actually happening,” Michael said, shaking his head. “I mean, I keep worrying I'm going to wake up one day back at STRIKE and this will all have been a dream. That’s what these last months with you have been, Loon, a dream come true. It’s unreal to think we were separated for so long.”  
  
“Mum used to say that the things we lose have a way of coming back to us,” Luna said dreamily. “But not always in the way we expect. I don’t really care how it happened, though. I'm just glad it did.”  
  
“Well I'm going to go home and try to get a little more sleep,” Michael said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I'm still not feeling a hundred percent after that fight…you?”  
  
“I feel good,” Luna smiled. “You can sleep. Daddy and I are going to pick sunflowers.”  
  
Michael smiled back at her. He couldn’t think of a more Luna-like way to spend her wedding day, and he thought it was great.   
  
“I’ll see you in a little bit then,” Michael said, hoisting his bag up on his shoulder. Luna slid off her bed and wrapped her thin arms around his waist.   
  
“I love you,” she said softly.  
  
“I love you too,” Michael replied automatically, kissing her on the forehead. “See you.”  
  
“Bye Michael,” Luna said brightly, stepping away from him to give him room to Apparate. She waved at him and Michael couldn’t help but laugh as he turned in place and vanished, leaving only a small trail of flames behind.  
  
Michael stepped out of the fire pillar in his old bedroom, careful to make as little noise as possible. He had chosen his signature form of Apparition to avoid waking his parents – for all their sakes. He threw down his bag and sat down on the edge of his bed, propping his chin up in his hands. For a long time, he simply sat there, reflecting on the past two years of his life and wondering how he would handle whatever the future brought. He discovered he had no answer for this, save that he was glad he would be facing it with Luna beside him. With that pleasant thought to pacify him, Michael sprawled out on top of his blankets, clothes still on, grabbed a pillow from the top of the bed, crushed it in between his arm and head and went straight to sleep.  
  
His mother and father welcomed him back home the next day at seven over a breakfast Michael couldn’t eat a bite of. Nancy crossed her arms sternly at Michael.  
  
“You have to eat  _something_ ,” she said firmly. “You won't get another chance till this evening!”  
  
“I know Mom,” Michael muttered. “I've just got a lot on my mind, if you can believe it.” He contented his mother by taking a drink of orange juice.  
  
“I wouldn’t worry,” John said from behind his paper. “You're good at war, you’ve got experience with it. You’re halfway trained for marriage then.”  
  
Michael snorted, his mouth still full of drink. Nancy shook her head. “I can't believe you're marrying Luna today,” she sighed, ignoring her husband. “When her mother died and she left…you were so angry.”  
  
Michael rubbed the back of his neck. “I was angry a lot. And then I was again when I found out what really happened to her mom…it won't happen to us. I swear, it won't happen to us.” His hand shook his glass of juice.  
  
“Unless the Nargles get you,” John chuckled, still not looking at him. Michael laughed at this too. Really, he was glad of the way his parents treated him. It had annoyed him at first, on his first few trips home after becoming a hot-shot Auror, that his mother still bereted him for not eating and his father still poked fun at him, but over time he learned to appreciate it. Especially now, hours after a midnight duel with a madman, Michael clung to any normalcy thrown his way.  
  
With a half hour to go before the wedding, Michael and his parents stood together in the den, ready to Apparate to the church. There was really no need to be much earlier. Of the twelve people attending the wedding, five of them were in it. They turned in unison, vanishing and appearing a heartbeat later near the back of the elementary school Michael and Luna had attended. All three glanced around, but the holidays had left the school deserted and they were able to proceed without incident, walking a few blocks until they reached the chapel.  
  
Michael gazed up at the little church he had passed by so many times when he lived at home, but had never been in. Although small and rather plain, Michael had always counted it as one of the most remarkable buildings in town, although he admitted it had little competition.  
  
“Ready?” John asked Michael, who nodded silently and led his parents inside.  
  
Two rows of pews ran down both sides of the church, no more than ten benches on either side. At the end of the aisle running down the middle was a set of steps which rose up to a platform from which the pastor could speak from behind his podium, though an altar had been placed here today for the ceremony.   
  
A young bald man stood alone at the altar, thumbing through some papers. He looked up at the sound of the door opening and seeing who it was, smiled.   
  
“Mr. Jacobs,” he said happily, descending down the steps and shaking Michael’s hand. He was not much older than Michael, perhaps twenty-eight or twenty-nine. “It’s nice to meet you, my name is Desmond Deel.”   
  
“Good to meet you,” Michael said politely, shaking his hand. “I suppose I should get changed. Luna’s great, but even she probably would get mad if I end up at the altar wearing a pair of dirty jeans and a shirt with a stain on it…” he looked down at himself. “…like I am now. Is there a place for me to change?”  
  
“You can go back through there,” Deel said, pointing at a pair of doors at the back of the church. “Take the left one.”   
  
“Thanks,” Michael acknowledged, turning to leave the young man with his parents.  
  
“You!” called an excited voice.   
  
Jeff had just entered the church, dressed casually and grinning at them all. “Your freaking wedding day! I'm happy for you man, look, I'm even minding my language!” he said, shaking hands with Michael's father and hugging his mother. He really did look thrilled for Michael and for once, Michael was willing to take it at face value. He lowered his voice so only Michael could hear him as he leaned in for a quick hug. “Though…the next time you call me over to play at one in the morning, let’s make it  little less dangerous.”  
  
Michael merely grinned back at him and half-shrugged.”We’re supposed to go back through here,” Michael told Jeff. “To get ready for the wedding and all.”   
  
They headed side by side down the aisle, Jeff trying hard to trip Michael as they walked. Michael somehow fought off the urge to shove him into a pew. They opened the door on the left and stepped into a simple square room. The only feature worth pointing out was a beautiful painting on the wall. The walls were colored a creamy tan shade, giving the room a warm feeling. It was usually used for group meetings, but as the tiny church had rarely hosted weddings before, it would have to serve as a dressing room, as would the duplicate room next to it for the girls.   
  
“So, nervous at all?” Jeff asked with a laugh. Michael was tugging at the collar of his shirt, looking extremely edgy. It was exceedingly unlike him to be so anxious, but then again, it was due to a girl unlike any other.   
  
“Just a bit,” Michael said. The door opened and Harry and Ron walked in, already wearing their tuxedos. Luna had left the choice of dress robes or tuxedos for the men to Michael, who rationalized that almost all Wizard formals called for dress robes and he would be remiss to forgo a chance to dress like a rich Muggle. “Very classy, trying to upstage me?” he joked, hoping humor would calm him.   
  
“No, we’re still recovering from the experience of getting these things on,” Harry said, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket. “Sarah had them sent to us already, and Ron’s mum made us wear them here…”   
  
“Didn’t you get one?” Ron asked Jeff. Jeff was wearing slacks and a plain white t-shirt. Next to Ron and Harry, he looked extremely inappropriate.   
  
“Of course,” he said smoothly, “I just have to get it on.” He drew his wand and waved it down his body. For a second he looked even stupider, standing in nothing but his boxers, but another second later he had redressed himself, now clad in a tuxedo exactly like Ron and Harry's.    
  
“Here, I've got something for you guys,” Michael muttered as he too changed into more formal attire. He waved his wand, and five cut roses fell into his hands. “These were Luna’s mom’s,” he told them, handing one to each. “We got them from her old house. She wants us to wear them today…”    
  
He stuck his own through the buttonhole of his suit, making sure it looked good. The others all did so, handling the roses very carefully. Michael still had one left in his hand.   
  
  
“Did you guys see Luna and her dad?” Michael asked Harry and Ron, who nodded.   
  
  
“They’re here? Then I’ll be right back…” He strode out of the room, the door swinging shut behind him.   
  
  
“We really are terrible people,” Jeff said suddenly, turning to Harry and Ron, who looked at him in surprise.   
  
  
“What are you talking about?” Harry questioned.   
  
  
“He’s our friend, and he’s getting married.” Jeff looked miserable, and for a moment Harry wondered if Jeff had done something terrible to him, perhaps involving Luna. Then he shook his head, saying,   
  
  
“No bachelor party.” He whispered it as if it was a dreadful secret, one that would result in his death if anyone discovered it. “We never thought to give him one. In less than an hour, he’ll never be able to see a pair of breasts besides hers again… What have we done…?”   
  
  
“Father forgive them,” Michael said in a dramatic voice, reentering the room, “They know not what they do.”   
  
  
“I'm so sorry,” Jeff groaned, “How could we have done this to you?” Michael was strongly reminded of a man begging his girlfriend for forgiveness after being caught cheating on her.   
  
  
“That is a pretty grave crime,” Michael said seriously. “I think the only way you can make up for it is by doing something for me.”   
  
  
“What?” Jeff asked, his eyes wide.   
  
  
“Come here, I’ll tell you,” Michael said. Jeff leaned in close and Michael whispered quickly into his ear, so that Harry and Ron couldn’t hear what they said.   
  
  
“Consider it done,” Jeff said quickly. “I’ll make sure it gets here, don’t worry about it.”   
  
  
“You’d better,” Michael said sternly. “By the way…” He dropped his voice and glanced at the door, making sure no one was about to enter, “if you’d ever seen Luna’s boobs, you’d know I don’t need any others.”   
  
  
“So not a problem making the Unbreakable Vow then?” Jeff smirked.   
  
  
“You’re not actually making your vows Unbreakable, are you?” Ron asked.   
  
  
“No, not literally,” Jeff laughed. Michael smiled and rolled his eyes. “I meant that if he ever tries to go back on these promises, Luna will kill him.”   
  
  
They all laughed, a touch more nervousness in Michael’s now. It was now nine-fifty, the ceremony would start in ten minutes. Harry and Ron left the room to join Michael’s parents, Luna’s father, and Ginny, the only other people who had no part in the wedding.   
  
  
“It’s time,” Jeff said, checking his watch. “You ready?” he asked, all joking aside, placing a hand on both of his friend’s shoulders. Michael gave a stiff nod. “The music should start right about… now.”   
  
  
From outside the door, a loud song suddenly boomed. It seemed to come from the walls and ceiling itself. Michael smirked and he and Jeff threw open the door and strode out down the aisle, towards the altar. He flexed his muscles as he walked, pointing cockily at where Harry, Ron, and Ginny sat, on the left hand side front pew. Ginny whistled at him.  
  
  
Sarah and Hermione were already up at the altar, wearing matching dresses of a light pink color, smiling identically, laughing at Michael’s choice for a wedding march.   
  
  
The music came to a stop and there was a moment of silence. Michael stared at the door from which his soon to be wife and her father would appear any second.   
  
  
Then, she was there, framed by the empty pews but watched by all.  
  
  
Michael’s eyelids nearly detached themselves as they shot up and down. The shock came twofold for him. It wasn’t simply the beauty of the girl he was about to marry.  
  
  
Luna did not walk, stumble, or float down the aisle. She skipped. Xenophillius also had a spring in his step, though not nearly as pronounced as his daughter’s. He also had a red rose pinned to his dress robes. He was the only person wearing non Muggle clothing.   
  
  
He slipped into the top right pew, next to Nancy and John, watching with tearful eyes as Luna joined the others at the altar. In truth, the altar was unimportant. They didn’t need anything physical, only each other.   
  
  
Luna’s strapless dress was unlike anything Michael had ever seen before, a flowing series of layers which from top to bottom encompassed all the colors of the rainbow, from violet at the top branching out to red around the hem on the floor, which she had through some feet of masterful dexterity avoided tripping on. Michael couldn’t breathe for a moment…it was all too much. Not the style or the brightness, just…what he was doing. No, he told himself firmly. This was just right. It was perfect. As he looked Luna up and down, he realized he was grinning so much that he heard Jeff snort a bit to his side.  
  
  
She was looking down at the ring on her left hand, rubbing it with her thumb. Michael had been very proud of his choice for an engagement ring and hoped the wedding band would live up to the standard. He had of course purchased his own band alongside Luna’s engagement ring to preempt any money issues.  
  
  
Luna beamed at him and he smiled happily back as she swayed in place a bit, waiting for what was to come.  
  
  
“Dearly beloved,” Deel began in a ringing voice, his tone commanding attention, despite the wide smile on his face. “We are gathered here today to join two young people very much in love….”   
  
  
The ceremony was rather quick, for a wedding at least. It took just a little over ten minutes to reach the fateful phrase,   
  
  
“Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” He paused for a very serious moment as Michael and Luna stared into each other’s eyes. “Love never ends. I now declare you husband and wife.” Michael cocked an eyebrow at Luna, making her snort with laughter. She recomposed herself quickly, but Michael thought she had never looked more beautiful. “You may now kiss the bride.”   
  
  
Michael reached out to Luna and swept her off her feet, leaning her backwards and kissing her romantically, her eyes closed. Luna abruptly leaned forward, righting them, at the same time throwing out her arms and spinning in place. A shimmering gold ribbon materialized above the couple, floating down to wrap itself around them.   
  
  
Michael raised his eyebrows as he and his wife were wrapped together. “Literally tying the knot? I swear I’m not going anywhere.”  
  
  
“Forever,” Luna said simply, looking at him with her huge eyes. “Forever.” The other eleven people broke into applause, then Jeff suddenly vanished from the raised steps, though no one noticed.   
  
  
There was no reception after the wedding. What was the point, Michael and Luna had asked, given that a dozen people, mostly close friends, were in attendance. Luna had worried that it would mean missing their symbolic first dance, but Michael had assured her there would be time during their yet to be revealed honeymoon.   
  
  
Michael therefore took Luna’s hand and together they, now husband and wife, sprinted down the aisle as fast as Luna’s shoes would allow. The others chased after them, though no one present besides Michael, not even Luna, knew what he had in mind.   
  
  
They threw open the doors of the church and rushed out into the sunlight. For a single heart stopping moment Michael thought that he was in trouble. Nothing was waiting for them except for the gentle breeze and chirping of birds.   
  
  
Then, just as the guests caught up with them, their salvation arrived. Michael’s neglected vehicle sped down the road towards them, turning sharply and skidding into a hard stop in front of Michael and a wide eyed Luna. The door opened and Jeff jumped out, wearing a pair of expensive sunglasses. He flicked his wand casually at the attendees and muttered a spell, causing a shimmering wall to appear between he, Michael, and Luna and the rest of the guests.   
  
  
“Congratulations guys,” he grinned at the couple, handing Michael his glasses. “I’d ask to kiss the bride, but you’ve already let me be inside of the other object of your love today.”   
  
  
Typically inappropriate, especially on their wedding day, but neither Michael or Luna would ever have it any other way.   
  
  
“I swear to God, if ‘just married’ is painted on it…” Michael muttered threateningly, though to no point. He was far too happy to even pretend to be angry about anything.   
  
  
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jeff said. He glanced towards the guests, all fighting among themselves to break through the shield, to be the first to congratulate the couple. “Now get going, I won't be able to hold them forever…and try not to kill yourselves.”   
  
  
“Thanks Jeff,” Michael laughed. He dove into the driver’s seat, Luna seeming to materialize into the passenger side seat. They slammed the doors shut, and with a last look at Jeff, who was standing determinedly firm against the wave of well-wishers, Michael stomped on the accelerator, shooting them off down the empty road, the angry shouts of guests ringing in their ears.   
  
  
“You candrive, then?” Luna inquired serenely.   
  
  
“I can drive enough,” Michael replied, giving the wheel a quick jerk to pull himself back onto the right side of the road. “I…actually snuck out with Jeff a few nights ago at my parents’ so we could figure it out. Not that hard, really, mostly point and go.”  
  
  
“So where  _are_  we going then?” Luna asked. She had found a pair of sunglasses on the dash and was wearing them on the tip of her nose, looking curiously at her husband. Michael tried to keep his eyes on the road, considering they were approaching ninety miles an hour, but found it difficult not to stare at his beautiful wife. “Do you actually know?”   
  
  
“The Virgin Islands,” he told her happily, trying to work the radio and stay on the road at the same time.   
  
  
“Can cars float?” Luna asked loudly over the blaring music Michael had put on. “I might have a spell for that. Or do you have something else in mind?”  
  
  
“Who cares?” Michael shouted gleefully. Not only his tone or voice, but his entire being radiated joyfulness. A strange combination of the glorious light peeking in through the windows and the unrestrained happiness on his features rendered the scar on his face nearly invisible. “We’re married!”


	26. Chapter 26: Can You Imagine?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No, I mean…couldn’t you tell that you were meant for…more?” 
> 
> “More?” Luna repeated, calming down and sipping her drink.

“So…one last thing.”   
  
Michael and Luna were standing before Xenophillius’ house, at just about one in the afternoon on Christmas Eve. They had just returned from their honeymoon the previous day, the highlights of which included scuba diving, hang-gliding, copious amounts of sex, and Michael attempting to spin the car quickly enough to Apparate it with the couple inside. It only took him two tries to get it right.  
  
They would soon be asking to purchase Luna’s old home from him, but Michael had one last unresolved question before they truly began living together.   
  
“Yes?” Luna asked, rubbing her gloved hands together against the cold. Her cheeks – only slightly less pale after three days in the sun – were becoming rosy.  
  
“Back on the ship, on the way to St. Lucia,” he began, amazed he had forgotten something so important, “we made each other a promise. I promised to help you get your memories back, which I did.” He paused and Luna nodded, a small smile creeping up onto her flushed face.   
  
“You promised to tell me where you learned to kiss like that.” Luna nodded again, twirling her hair around her finger and placing it thoughtfully in her mouth to nibble on it. “Well, out with it. Was it Harry? Ron, maybe? Or some other guy I don’t know about?”   
  
Luna let her straggly hair fall from her mouth and looked around, hands clasped behind her.  
  
“Well…” she said slowly.   
  
“Yeah?” Michael prompted. “It was totally Harry, wasn’t it? It had to be Harry.”   
  
“Actually, it was Cho.”   
  
“Cho?” Michael said in surprise. “You mean that Ravenclaw girl who was such a bitch to you?”   
  
“Well, yes,” Luna said, tilting her head to the side. “She and I kissed two years ago.”  
  
“You and her actually…kissed?” Michael was stunned and shocked.   
  
“Yes, we did,” Luna said simply.   
  
Michael blinked repeatedly, not sure at all what to make of this information. He suddenly realized his brain was no longer working properly and his entire body was very warm. “But you…aren’t…I don't…is she…?”  
  
“No, I don't think so,” Luna replied dreamily. “We were only practicing for our real partners. Or at least I was,” she added after a moment.   
  
“Well,” Michael growled, pulling Luna towards him, “practice does make perfect.” He kissed her deeply, a little more passionately than he usually would outside their bedroom. “And that's just about perfect. Luna,” he said suddenly, “you…do know what that story is doing to me?”  
  
“Yes. Maybe we need a bit more practice?” Luna suggested.   
  
“Sounds good,” Michael grinned. “That, and we need to be in form to fight Voldemort, so we should probably keep at the other thing too – training, you know. From what I hear, Sarah’s pretty good at both, maybe you should she if she wants to give you any tips….”   
  
Luna didn’t answer, which Michael decided to take as a maybe. They traipsed together through the gate, past the signs, and up to the door with the eagle knocker. Luna banged the knocker a few times.   
  
Xeno came to the door much faster than he had last time, and wore a much happier expression, though much of his face was obscured by a long white beard.   
  
“Oh, hi Daddy,” Luna smiled , looking him up and down curiously. “What exactly did you do to yourself?”   
  
“I was just experimenting with a few spells,” he said dismissively. “Something I found in one of your mother’s books. I just felt inspired to try some…”   
  
“It looks great, but please be careful Dad,” Luna said, sounding worried. “You never know what you're going to find in those books.”   
  
“Your mother was very intelligent, Luna. I’ll be fine. She labeled every spell very precisely. I expect you two would like to come in?” He turned and stepped back into the house, waving them inside as he did.   
  
Michael followed him in, this time without the feeling of entering the lair of a person wishing to bring about his death. Luna followed and shut the door, smiling at her house. Michael understood how good it must feel for her to be home regardless of how much fun they had had together. He resolved  _their_ home would be just as pleasant.   
  
“Come on up,” Xeno told them, finding his way through the pillars of junk. He placed a hand on the railing of the spiral stairway and jogged up it. Michael shrugged and he and Luna followed.   
  
They took the same seats as last time, the couple on the couch, Xeno in the armchair facing them. Luna’s father crossed one leg over the other and smiled at them happily. He had still not removed the beard.   
  
“So, how are you enjoying married life?” he asked. “Is everything you hoped it would be? Was your honeymoon good?”   
  
“About that,” Michael said with a touch of embarrassment, “sorry about running off after the wedding. It’s just that we were really eager to get to the islands.”   
  
“It’s perfectly all right,” Xeno said with a wave of his hand, “That was frankly one of the best escapes I have ever seen, including all the things Elysina used to do…But what islands did you go to?”   
  
“The Virgin Islands,” Michael told him. “It was beautiful, we had a great time. We were worried you would be angry, so thanks for understanding.”   
  
“What are you planning to do for Christmas day?” Xeno asked. “If you are planning to go to the Manleys’, that's fine. I understand.”   
  
Michael looked at Luna, who drew a deep breath.  
  
“Actually, Dad, we were hoping you would agree to something….”   
  
“I'm sure I will,” he said quickly. “After all, I never gave you much of a wedding gift.”   
  
“It’s great Dad, I love it,” Luna said quietly. Having no permanent residence for the moment, Luna had kept the album in one of her two bags she and Michael traveled with. “We love it. But, while we were back in America, visiting Michael’s parents, we did something.”   
  
“Please, Luna,” Xeno said. He raised both hands and looked slightly green. “I really don’t need to know what you did or didn’t do before you were married.”    
  
“No, not sex,” Luna said, and Michael couldn’t quite hide his smirk. “I meant that we went by the old house. That's where we got those roses for the wedding.”    
  
“Ah, I wondered about that. It’s nice to know they're still alive and flourishing.”   
  
“The house looks great, just a little uncared for. Michael mentioned that you still owned it, you never sold it.”    
  
“How exactly did you know that?” Xeno asked Michael. He shook his head. “I think I already know.”    
  
“STRIKE,” Michael replied simply. “After I rose to the same rank as Elysina, I had access to all her resources. You probably remember how extensive they were. After I discovered what happened to her – and to you – I couldn’t help but check in both of you. It was that…and an inability to ever quite forget your daughter.”    
  
Xenophillius was quiet for a moment, then nodded very seriously at Michael. “You have no idea what these words mean to me. But what did you want to ask me, Luna?”    
  
“Well, now that we’re married,” Luna said cautiously, “we need a place to live – once I graduate Hogwarts, of course.”    
  
“Of course,” Xeno nodded.    
  
“We thought that maybe you could sell us the house,” Luna said plainly. “It has so many memories, now it does at least,” she smiled at Michael. “We thought that we could live there, during breaks and after school.”    
  
“Elysina managed as a STRIKE captain there for years and enjoyed the isolation…she thought it kept us safe for a long time. What is the situation with STRIKE?” he asked Michael. “I'm sure they don't know about Luna yet.”   
  
Michael had his answer ready. He had thought about it for a while, and had recently realized how true it was, and the vastness of his decision.    
  
“It doesn’t really matter anymore. STRIKE. To be completely honest with you, I'm not far at all from being considered AWOL.”    
  
Luna and her father looked at him in surprise.    
  
“What are you talking about, Michael?” Luna asked quickly. But Michael continued to speak to her father.    
  
“You see, I refused to allow Luna to reveal herself to STRIKE a long time ago. I haven't been filling out accurate reports since practically when I arrived at Hogwarts. Really, the only contact I have with them are my friends Jeff and Sarah, and they were at the wedding. I think STRIKE knows I’m not doing everything exactly by the book. Now, they’ve never had a real problem with that before, but I think it’s silly to think they won't realize something is off soon. Luna was concerned recently that we might be being followed, but I don't think that's the case. The only people in STRIKE capable of spying on me are under my own command.   
  
“And as for after this war is over…I've told Luna this, but no one else. I'm quitting STRIKE once Voldemort is defeated, as well as the Seven destroyed. I don’t want anything else to do with fighting or killing. It doesn’t even matter, really. I’ll be kicked out anyway if they ever found out about Luna.”    
  
“You would give up all that for my daughter?” Xeno asked.    
  
“For his wife,” Luna added.    
  
“Yeah, for your daughter,” Michael told Xeno, then he turned to Luna. “But as for my wife, it might get a little cramped if that other girl starts living with us…”    
  
“Ha, ha,” Luna said. She was used to his jokes now, and would usually try to add something to it, but this was too important.    
  
“But, seriously, yes I would,” Michael said. “If you could see your way to selling us the house, we’d be really grateful. I'm not rich, but I have money….”    
  
“It doesn’t matter,” Xeno said firmly, “You are not buying that house from me. Not now or ever.”    
  
“But Dad –” Luna began.    
  
“You are not ever buying the house,” he said, raising a hand, “because I'm giving it to you. No payment.”    
  
“No, I’ll pay,” Michael protested, but again Xenophillius cut across him.    
  
“Michael, you have already convinced my daughter to marry you and fought violent Wizards to protect her. There’s no more need to prove you’re a man.”    
  
There was a small pause. Then Michael and Luna both said, “Thank you, Dad.”    
  
Xenophillius looked at Michael long and hard for a minute at that. He had never expected Michael to call him Dad, at least not that soon.    
  
“I’ll go down to Gringotts right after Christmas and I’ll have the deed changed to be in the name of Michael and Luna Jacobs.” He paused again. Michael knew he was contemplating the name and from his face it felt strange, but not wrong. “Until then, feel free to stay there. All the furniture from the old house couldn’t fit, so some of it’s in storage. Let me give you the key.”    
  
“Thank you so much,” Michael said again. Luna got up and gave her dad a huge hug.   
  
“Now that that's settled,” Michael said, as Luna sat back down next to him, “There’s something else.” Luna snuggled up against him, purely for contact, and looked up at her father with her wide eyes.    
  
“We’d like to formally invite to the first Christmas at the Jacobs’s.”    
  
“Of course!” Xeno said cheerfully, “Will John and Nancy be attending too?”    
  
“I hope so,” Michael said, “We haven't asked yet.”    
  
“You came to me first?” Xeno was smiling widely at him. “I’d love to come, it will be superb! What should I bring? I suppose I should get rid of this,” he said, gesturing at his beard, “unless you wish to start a family tradition?”    
  
“It does make you look a little like Father Christmas,” Luna said thoughtfully. “Maybe all the men should grow one?” she suggested to Michael.    
  
“Uh, I couldn’t take the honor away from your dad,” he said quickly. “Shave it or keep it, as long as you're there, it'll be great.”    
  
“What time should I arrive?” Xeno asked. “My Lord, I barely remember how to get there, it’s been so long!”    
  
“Let’s say, seven?” he asked, looking at Luna, who nodded enthusiastically, so much so that her long blonde hair flopped back and forth over her eyes. “Luna, can you come pick him up? Right well, we have some other things to do, so….”    
  
“Of, course!” Xeno said accommodatingly. “The thrilling life of newlyweds, I envy you! But I’ll hold you here no longer, go ahead. I’ll see you tomorrow. And here’s the key to the storage facility, it’s near Gringotts.”    
  
He handed Michael the key, and then Michael and Luna grasped hands and Disapparated out of Xeno’s house, appearing instead back in front of their new home.   
  
“I've noticed something lately,” Luna said offhandedly as they walked up to the secluded house.    
  
“If it’s my ass, feel free notice all you want.”    
  
“No,” she said, though slapping him exactly there, “I meant how we constantly Apparate between England and America. That's usually incredibly hard, ordinarily most people just take Portkeys.”    
  
“Since when are we ordinary?” Michael asked as they reached the welcome mat, “But I think what makes it possible is Flame Apparition. More focus, but easier to manage long trips. You used to think it was just showy,” he winked at her. “But I also think it helps that we usually do it together. Combining our powers gives us the boost to do stuff like that.”    
  
“Like when we have sex?” Luna asked.    
  
“Exactly.”    
  
They explained to Michael’s parents their plans for Christmas and they quickly agreed to come to the festivities, hoping they remembered the way. Michael and Luna then took each other’s hands again, this time materializing in the yard of their home.    
  
“I never thought I’d call this place home again,” Luna said quietly, looking up at the impressive house. “Do you remember? When spring comes, swarms of Marmaties gather at the foot of the mountains. We could go look for them when we have time? It will be so much fun to take our children to see them.”    
  
She spoke with easy certainty, as if their lives were already mapped out ahead for them. It wasn’t an idea Michael generally subscribed to, but Luna’s version of it was incredibly appealing to him. “It’s a great place to live,” Michael said appreciatively, “and it was so great of your dad to give it to us.”    
  
“It was,” Luna said happily. She looked over at the dirty, grass covered indentation in the ground not far from where they stood.   
  
“What's wrong?” Michael asked her, also looking at the crater. Michael had never asked Luna why she truly wanted to move back into her old home. True, it had been the site of so many of their childhood days together, but Michael knew it also witnessed her most tragic memory. But Luna had insisted so strongly on it and had been the one to suggest the idea to begin with, so Michael had said nothing to her. He knew how strong his wife was and even more importantly, how fixated she was on the good in her life even when surrounded by evil.   
  
“I think I’ll plant a tree,” Luna said dreamily.   
  
“What?”   
  
“A tree, there,” she said, pointing at the hole. “To honor Mum, who she was and what she did for me.”   
  
Michael smiled at his new wife. “I think that’s a great idea Loon.”   
  
They stepped up onto the little porch and again hesitated, this time in front of the mahogany door.    
  
“Do you think it’s safe?” Luna asked, trying to peak in through the tall, rectangular windows flanking the door. They were too dusty to see through, and she turned back to Michael.    
  
“I’ll find out,” Michael said. He tried the knob, but it was locked. He drew out his wand and pointed it at the knob, saying “ _Alohamora_ ”. The door swung open and Michael stepped inside, not bothering to tell Luna not to follow.    
  
The inside of the house was dark, except for the faint light coming in through the glass windows. While Xeno had continued to own the house, he had apparently stopped paying the electricity, water, and gas bills. Now that he thought on it, Michael wasn’t exactly sure how a Wizard paid for Muggle amenities. He made a mental note to ask his parents when he went to invite them to Christmas.   
  
The interior of the house would have been beautiful, except for the thick covering of dust and occasional cobwebs all around the home. The tiled entryway led straight into a formal den, which had wood floors and a pair of old armchairs. Apparently Xeno had not removed all the furniture. On their left was the doorway to the master bedroom. On the right was a square of carpet on which a grand dining table had sat, when Luna and her family had lived here.    
  
They continued in to the right, finding a utility room at the end of the hall. Michael opened the door to the right and confirmed his suspicion that it led to the spacious garage. Michael smiled at this – Luna’s mother had taken all the precautions, including living in a predominantly Muggle community. Well, outside of one at least. Through the doorframe on the left was the kitchen, and attached to that was the living room. Three large windows granted a view of the backyard. Luna strode through the kitchen and onto the carpet of the living room, staring out into the yard.    
  
Michael followed the granite counter across the wall and found a hallway which was separated from the living room by a thin wall. There were three doors on the right: a room, a bathroom, and then another bedroom. On the left of the furthest room was a door leading outside. He jangled the lock a minute, and then succeeded in getting the back door open. He walked outside and was met by Luna.    
  
“There’s a door going outside where the kitchen and living room meet,” she explained. “I think that door leads to the master bedroom,” she added, pointing to a third door opposite the one she had come from.    
  
“This is great!” Michael said enthusiastically, “I haven't been to your house in so long, I had forgotten what it was like!”    
  
“Me too,” she admitted, a little sadly. “But it’s our house now.”    
  
He smiled at her, then gestured around the large, enclosed yard.    
  
“Good thing there's a fence,” he said. “Wouldn’t want the dog to get out.”    
  
“Oh, we have a dog now?” Luna asked, raising her eyebrows.    
  
“We will,” Michael said firmly. Even if it was Luna, there was no debating this with him. “Just need to figure out a name.”    
  
“So, where do we start with this?” she asked, turning back to face the house. “There’s a lot to do…not just cleaning either, we’ll need furniture….”    
  
Michael paled. He had forgotten that part of marriage. Given the choice, he’d take a day with Owen Stetnas and Lord Voldemort rather than furniture shopping. His brain kicked into its rarely used on mode, and an idea came to him.    
  
“How are we going to do that?” he asked her, trying to sound concerned. “We have Sarah’s party in two days, and its Christmas Eve, no place will be open.”    
  
She looked at him, and her expression told him he was out of luck on this one. “You’re Michael Jacobs,” she said serenely. “Don’t try to tell me no place will open up for you today. You arranged a trip to the Caribbean overnight, you can handle this.”    
  
“Yeah, but that's not all,” he said, another genius idea hitting him, “if I use STRIKE connections to get someplace to sell to us, they’ll know about us getting married, then STRIKE will find out, somehow.”    
  
“Which is why I'm going to be your good friend, Carry Matthews, who is ever so grateful you agreed to help me buy furniture for my home with my new husband, Henry.”    
  
“Wow,” he said. “Wow, I really am married.”    
  
“Do you want to sleep on the floor?” Luna inquired. “If you want to camp, we could set up a tent in the yard, but as it’s so cold I thought you might want a bed for the night. Plus, I really want us to have sex.”   
  
“Furniture it is,” Michael said quickly, now grinning.   
  
“We don't have long to get everything together, we should hurry,” Luna said brightly.    
  
“Fine, let’s go back inside,” Michael sighed. “Decide what to do first, there's a lot to fix and clean.”    
  
“Are you really worried about that?” Luna asked skeptically. They entered back into the kitchen and turned down the hallway leading to the front door.    
  
“Well, it’s not exactly how I planned to spend today,” Michael said defensively. Luna strode onto the hardwood of the den and raised her wand, gesturing Michael to join her.    
  
“It shouldn’t be much of the day,” she said calmly. “We’re two of the most powerful teenagers in the world; it shouldn’t take more than thirty seconds.”    
  
“Oh, yeah. Right.”    
  
“Besides the life and death combat, this kind of thing makes me the most glad my Trace was removed.”   
  
Within the next minute the house with almost spotless. The layer of filth that covered their home was swept away, and the house looked completely different. The windows were cleaned, allowing more sunlight into the home. The house looked more like a home again – empty, but cared for.   
  
Michael tried to convinced Luna that they only had time and need to furnish one room, plus a bedroom, for the coming holiday at least. Luna reminded him that they had their old furniture in storage, and were free to get that. At this Michael resigned himself to devoting his day to buying, moving, and arranging furniture. He supposed he should be glad for a break from fighting Dark Wizards, but couldn’t hope secretly hoping the storage facility was overrun with Lacerte.   
  
They went to the storage facility on the outskirts of a large city, entered their allotted space, and found a number of useful things. Obviously no beds were kept, but a few chairs, tables, a pair of lamps, and even an old Muggle television.   
  
“My mother liked to watch the Muggle news,” Luna told Michael when he pointed to it. “I never understood why, but I suppose it was part of her job. She was also very fond of films about cowboys. That I don't understand quite as well.”   
  
They shrunk their furniture, stuffed it piece by piece into Luna’s bag, though even at a tenth its original size Michael was forced to carry some of it in his arms, Apparating back home with a tiny nightstand and coffee table balanced against his chest. Their burden lifted, Luna pulled him away for the second part of their task – purchasing enough furniture to fill the rest of their home, and most importantly, beds.    
  
It wasn’t as bad as Michael had feared, Luna was choosy with designs and colors, but seemed to know exactly what she wanted and surprised Michael with how quickly she had picked out enough furniture to make their house decent. Michael was also relieved to find Luna did not have expensive taste, although this didn’t surprise him as much as anything else.   
  
Now content with their full house, the young couple set off to have all the important amenities turned on in their house. Finally at six in the evening, their job was done. Their house was furnished, warm, and bright – it was theirs. Michael couldn’t deny how good this felt. He had been independent for a long time, moving away from home nearly two years ago and always responsible for his own money, but for the first time he felt like he was really in control of his own life. It surprised Michael a little that after marriage and war – not to mention several deaths on his hands –  _this_ is what made him feel like an adult.   
  
“Magic is wonderful, but I sometimes think Ron’s father is a genius,” Luna mused as they ate their first meal at home, seated across a glass table. Michael inquired silently by raising his eyebrows, as his mouth was full of hamburger. “He puts a lot of faith in Muggle inventions,” Luna explained. “I think that's smart. I fight better with magic than I would with a Muggle weapon, but I think I’d rather do laundry their way.”   
  
“I suppose so,” Michael agreed. “We can buy a washer and dryer after Christmas. Do you know how to work them?”   
  
“It will be fun to learn,” Luna smiled at him.   
  
Michael grinned back at her and nodded silently.    
  
Luna, who had just finished her hamburger, began to chuckle quietly. After a few moments, she couldn’t keep her mouth closed and was laughing openly. Michael took a drink from his cup, watching her clutch her sides.    
  
“Do I have something on my face?” he asked, patting his chin and cheeks with a napkin.    
  
“We’re mad!” she cried, still giggling madly. “We are completely insane!”    
  
“That's true,” Michael said, gathering up their trash into a neat ball with a wave of his hand. “But do you mean in one specific way?”    
  
“Think about it!” Her laughter was now not only from hilarity, but from happiness. “We’re seventeen! Well, you turned eighteen a few months back, but still! We’re married, living on our own, all the while being hunted by Lord Voldemort and your mad ex-partner, because of our night jobs of hunting down seven evil artifacts! We’re both mad!”    
  
“Loon, be honest.” Michael was leaning back his chair on two legs, talking to the ceiling. “Did you ever expect less of yourself?”    
  
“What do you mean?” she asked, trying to restore some measure of seriousness to her voice, “Did you expect to be married or to have a death sentence on you when you started this?”    
  
“No, I mean…couldn’t you tell that you were meant for…more?”    
  
“More?” Luna repeated, calming down and sipping her drink.    
  
“Like…that you were different. Special. Extraordinary?”    
  
“Well,” she smiled gently at him, “I suppose I always knew I was different, but extraordinary…maybe…I think you’re right. I think I did know that we were meant for something more.”    
  
Michael’s chair fell back onto four legs. He looked into Luna’s eyes.   
  
“We’re different than the others Loon, from Harry and Jeff and them. The path we walk is apart from theirs.”    
  
“You think we have a different fate?” Luna asked.   
  
“No, I don’t believe in fate,” he said flatly. “We make our own fate – our paths aren’t  predetermined for us. That's what people too lazy to make their own fate say.”   
  
“That's what Mum used to say,” Luna said. “She thought that we make our own way in the world, that we aren’t bound by fate or destiny.”    
  
“I don’t know whether the end of our road will be any different than Harry’s,” Michael replied. Michael was speaking very seriously to his wife – between the day and the topic at hand he was feeling very serious in general today. “We could all end up in the same place. But the path we will walk to get there will be different and likely more difficult. But we’ll walk it together.”   
  
“Are you a Seer now, Michael?” Luna asked playfully, though he didn’t reply with a smart or cute comment.    
  
“No, nothing like that. I just think…we’re probably the two most powerful students at Hogwarts, wouldn’t you say?” She nodded. “Then isn’t it logical that we would have the hardest lot in life?”    
  
“I like to think we have the easiest,” Luna said placidly, “Sure, we might be bigger targets and such, but who cares? We have something none of the others have. We have each other.”    
  
“Can't argue with that logic,” Michael smiled, reverting to his usual self. He felt much more boyish as he said it; more like an eighteen year old. “What am I talking about, hardest time? I'm freaking married to Luna Lovegood, what do I care if some Dark Lord wants me dead?”    
  
“And I got Michael Jacobs,” Luna said happily. “What does it matter if a deranged man wants me?”    
  
“Hey, since when am I deranged?” Michael demanded, feigning offense. He was cheered by the thought of his marveling luck. All things considered it was a miracle he was still alive at all, let alone married to a beautiful Witch. Not even Luna’s offhand mention of Owen Stetnas brought the usual anger with it.    
  
“Well, you do keep talking that thing with handcuffs in bed,” Luna vaguely. “That's not normal.”    
  
“Didn’t we just have a long talk about how we’re not normal?”    
  
“No,” Luna smiled happily. “No we’re not.”   
  
Michael shook his head at her. “I’m only kidding anyway. But in all seriousness Loon…its’ nice to have a home, isn’t it? I mean, maybe you don't know what I'm saying because you’ve lived with your dad at home till now, but me? I haven't had a home in two years, honestly. I lived in cheap apartments, Hogwarts castle, and STRIKE’s headquarters, which isn’t exactly a luxury hotel. I'm really glad to be here.”  
  
“I know exactly what you mean,” Luna replied, turning in her seat to look all around the house. “I've been wandering for years too, even if my body hasn’t. I agree, it’s nice to be home.”  
  
“I know we’re young,” Michael went on, “but there's a chance this could be where we live the rest of our lives. Unless you prefer a tropic island?”   
  
“Maybe,” Luna said, standing up and pushing her chair in, “but I burn too easily. I think this would be a great place to spend forever.”   
  
Michael and loved to hear Luna speak of their future, but wondered how much longer he could dance around the delicate issue he knew they must soon breech. It wasn’t like Luna to ignore such things, and so he assumed it was one of the few things Luna had no desire to talk about. He decided to put off what he knew he must do until after Christmas.   
  
“Forever sounds like a plan to me,” Michael agreed, also standing. Luna had drifted off to the den and sat down on their sofa. “Although I have a feeling the rest of our days will be a little more exciting than our first.”   
  
Michael joined Luna on the couch and wrapped his arm affectionately around her. She rested her head on his shoulder and shut her huge eyes.   
  
“I hope not. Can you imagine, Michael?"  
  
"Imagine what?" Michael asked, beginning to become a bit drowsy himself.  
  
"If this is how wonderful our lives are now, can you even imagine how they'll be once this war ends? That's what I want most, for this war to end so we can just...."  
  
"Live?" Michael supplied.  
  
Luna smiled dreamily.  
  
"Exactly."


	27. Chapter 27: Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don't think so,” Luna said, hiccupping a little. She appealed to Ron and Harry, who crossed their arms, smirking and swaying in their support of her.
> 
> “Come on!” Michael cried. “A hamburger is so a sandwich!”

**AN: So as a little background, this story is split into three pretty distinct pieces seperated by major time skips. They all have their own theme, but one thing they all have in common is a Christmas chapter, which are all just sort of fun chapters in the vein of the Christmas specials a lot of TV shows used to do. Anyway, the three of them are some of my favorites, and I hope you enjoy the first. Let me know what you think in a review!**   
  


* * *

  
Michael and Luna’s first Christmas was a success. The absence of Michael's parents due to illness and the burn marks on the carpet resulting from Michael – after several drinks – attempting to impress Luna and her father with nonverbal magic were the only events that caused the holiday to stop short of perfection.   
  
After Michael learned his mother was too under the weather to attend, they had more than enough turkey to stuff themselves Christmas night. Even the usually floaty Luna moved a little slower as the night wore on. Xenophillius had been everything Michael hoped for – warm, full of supposedly vital advice, and a very willing singing partner once Michael had pressed enough Firewhiskey on his father in law.    
  
Michael was especially proud of his Christmas gift to Luna. He hadn’t had much free time recently – let alone free time away from his wife – but he was still able to make a covert trip to Arnold’s Artistry in Diagon Alley to purchase a diverse paint set for Luna which included everything from Self Cleaning Brushes to seasonal paint, a favorite of magical painters for its ability to exude the smells of a season from any landscape painted with it.   
  
He was thrilled with Luna’s present as well, though he spend hours puzzling over where she had gotten it before she finally revealed it had come a day previously by mail order owl. Luna had purchased Michael a dragon skin wand holster, a very dark burgundy from a Chinese Fireball which secured safely to his belt. The inside of the holster was enchanted with a very weak holding charm to insure his wand wouldn't fall out during rapid movement but would not be difficult to extract quickly when the need arose. Michael was unable to resist his leftover childish impulses and had run outside to get a feel for the holster and found it fit him perfectly.   
  
Luna’s father left late in the night of the twenty-fifth and Michael and Luna slept late the next day, knowing they'd be up late for Sarah’s party that night. Finally at ten o clock Michael shook himself awake, located a shirt on the floor next to his side of the bed, pulled it on and forced himself out from under the covers. He immediately shivered – even in their cozy home December chill was unavoidable. The bed was empty but Michael could hear sounds coming from the kitchen.   
  
Upon investigation he discovered Luna at work on breakfast, humming a Christmas carol and wearing her favorite fuzzy house shoes shaped like something Michael was exasperatedly told was called a Potpu.   
  
“Morning,” he smiled at her back, rummaging in the cupboard for a glass, which he filled with water from his wand. “Who knew your dad was a party animal?”  
  
“I once suspected he might be a merman, but never that,” Luna replied sleepily. Michael cocked his head at her. “Oh, well, it turned it he didn’t have gills and need to breath water – he was only choking on a peanut,” she explained.    
  
Michael chuckled but left it at that. He sat down at the dining table and took a drink. Wand water wasn’t the best tasting thing in the world, but all Michael wanted was something to get whatever he was tasting out of his mouth. Luna transferred the eggs and ham she had cooked onto a pair of plates and sat down across from him. Michael nodded his thanks. “So Loon,” he said as she dug in, “its going to be a lot of fun seeing Harry and Jeff and everyone tonight, yeah?”   
  
“Harry and the others are coming?” she asked hopefully.   
  
“Yeah, Sarah offered to take them through Side-Along so they could join us,” Michael told her. “Harry and Ron are together at the Burrow and I think Hermione’s sending Sarah an owl with her address….”   
  
“I'm very excited to see them,” Luna beamed. “But I expect you're nervous, aren’t you? To see everyone else?”   
  
Michael took a few bites to prolong his time to answer. Luna took advantage of this.    
  
“Are you sure it’s a good idea to go at all?”   
  
“Hiding in plain sight Loon,” Michael finally said. “It would be more suspicious if I  _didn’t_ show up, and everyone’s suspicious enough as is.”   
  
“And all your friends from STRIKE are young, aren’t they?” Luna asked. She and Michael had gone over this multiple times in recent days. They both knew the answers to all the rhetorical questions, but hearing them spoken reassured them both. “So no one would recognize me just by seeing me as my mother’s daughter?”  
  
“Yeah…I probably shouldn’t call you Luna tonight, but other than that no one should pay you much attention.”   
  
“Except that I'm there with a Captain on his secret mission,” Luna pointed out vaguely.   
  
“I've been at Hogwarts a long time,” Michael winked. “Bound to get lonely after a while, right?”   
  
“Yes, that does happen,” Luna said serenely. Michael coughed – he hadn’t meant it like that. Luna hadn’t meant to bring up these serious things but Michael knew it was time they had a talk. He frowned at her.   
  
“Luna, how much have I told you about how STRIKE actually works?”  
  
“I know there are five divisions and you're in charge of one,” Luna said, counting on her fingers. “I know you have a leader named General Staffon. I know your base is off the east coast of England. I know you’re responsible for stopping that despot in Romania who was recruiting vampires –”  
  
“Did I really tell you all that?” Michael asked, amazed. “You know a lot.”  
  
“I'm good at listening,” Luna replied.   
  
“Well, here’s the thing Luna. I…I realize I haven't ever really talked to you about the divisions of STRIKE. Obviously there’s mine, Special Forces, which is used for everything from infiltration to raids and is the real backbone of STRIKE’s fighting force. There's the Intel division which doesn’t see much field work, mostly processing information and relaying it to other branches. They also handle more…nuanced…spy missions than my division. There’s also the Flyboys, which is self explanatory. They get STRIKE agents in places they can't Apparate into and also are the most important group anytime STRIKE needs to locate someone, since they can see so much from the skies. The Spellmasters are the most versatile group we have – having an organization full of deadly warriors and genius spies doesn’t necessarily mean they know how to project strong barriers, work effective invisibility spells, or make food edible. Spellmasters are a big asset to any team that gets to bring one along for field work, but they don't have one clear job.” He paused a moment here.   
  
“That's four,” Luna said. “The fifth group aren’t pleasant people, are they?”   
  
Michael rubbed the back of his neck. “No. No they're not. The last STRIKE division are the Professionals.”  
  
“You haven't mentioned them before,” Luna said. Their plates were empty but Michael had barely tasted his meal. “What are they professional at?”  
  
“Killing,” Michael said simply. “They're professional killers. Assassins. Everyone who sees action in STRIKE is aware they  _might_ have to kill, but its incidental. Sometimes Special Forces agents are sent to eliminate Dark Wizards but that's…different. Professionals’ only job is to kill. You ever wonder where STRIKE gets money to fund all its business? I get paid a nice salary, I don't do this for free. The Ministry chips in a tiny bit of money off the books, but it’s not enough to run the whole group. Well, the Professionals solve that problem.”  
  
“They're killers for hire, then,” Luna said quietly. Michael nodded, frowning.  
  
“Yeah. Yeah they are. They don't kill just anyone, STRIKE wouldn’t allow them to target innocent people but…maybe one gang needs another one wiped out, maybe a rebel group in Europe needs a tyrant removed from power, whatever the case…they handle it. And they’re compensated well. They’re…not normal people, Loon. I don't think you can be a normal person in a job like that.”  
  
“You think there might be a Professional at Sarah’s party?”  
  
“I doubt it,” Michael said slowly. “I didn’t interact much with any of them because most of them don't live on base at STRIKE. They're scattered out either on assignment or close to one. They're not party-type people. And even if one of them did show up, it’s not like they would be any more likely to recognize you than anyone else but…I thought you should know.”  
  
“They're the people you were trying to keep me away from, aren’t they?” Luna asked knowingly. Michael stacked their plates on top of each other and took them over to the sink. He flipped on the tap and watched the water wash over the plates. “They're the people in STRIKE you didn’t want me to find.”   
  
Michael's silence answered her question. He focused intensely on scrubbing a clean plate.  
  
“Jeff’s brother, Jace, first applied to be a Professional,” Michael said, eventually setting down the plates and turning off the water. “They told him he didn’t have the temperament for it…I don't know how I feel about that. Jace is ruthless…but he's not one of them.”  
  
“Well, if I meet one at the party, I won't bring up contract killing or political assassinations,” Luna said easily. “I’ve been curious what STRIKE agents know about the Rotfang Conspiracy, I’ll make it my mission tonight to educate them.”  
  
Michael grinned. “Sounds like a plan. I know I just did my best to horrify you, but honestly, most STRIKE agents are pretty like me.”  
  
“So they like to drink off the clock?”  
  
“Off, on, whatever,” Michael shrugged. “What do you think of Katie?”  
  
“…from primary school?” Luna said, scratching her head. “I don't like her much – she put chewing gum in my hair.”  
  
“Nah, as a name. For you, tonight.”  
  
“Katie?” Luna repeated thoughtfully. “How about Tatiana?”  
  
“Well…the less you stand out the better, really…” Michael trailed off. Luna smiled very slightly at looked him straight in the eye. “Yeah, you're right,” Michael couldn’t help but agree. “That's going to happen. Okay, Tatiana it is.”  
  
  
  
******************************************************************************  
  
“Shall we go to Sarah’s now?”   
  
“What time is it?” Michael loudly, punching random buttons on the television remote determinedly. He had learned how to change the channel from the news to a film about space aliens, but wasn’t quite sure how he had made the TV so loud or how to fix it.  
  
“Ten thirty!” Luna called at the top of her voice from across the house. She was in their bedroom picking out clothes.  
  
“Shit,” Michael cursed under his breath, losing patience and simply silencing the television with a wave of his wand. “We’re late!” he called back, pushing himself off the sofa and heading to join Luna.  
  
“It is a bit rude,” Luna said as he entered the room. She was dressed in plain but very pretty Muggle clothing, a pair of jeans and a ruffled black sweater. She stood before a mirror hanging over her nightstand carefully donning her heavy radish earrings. “But Sarah does always talk about how she likes to be fashionably late.”  
  
“I couldn’t care less about appearances,” Michael said. “Tonight, I just want to have fun and show off my wife – in the most discrete way possible.”  
  
“I'm ready if you are,” Luna smiled at him. Michael nodded and took her hand to Disapparate.  
  
“Off we go then, Tatiana.”  
  
They turned on the spot, evaporating into blackness, immediately rematerializing to shouts of recognition and greeting. Michael was impressed and annoyed at the same time – it seemed as if half of STRIKE had turned up for this party.   
  
They were standing on the front lawn of an enormous mansion, almost the size of Malfoy Manor. A huge fire was burning in the back yard; the top of the flames could be seen just above the house. All the lights were on inside the house and every now and again a burst of sparks would shoot into the air.   
  
They were surrounded by people, all their age, all of whom were converging on the couple, mostly on Michael, slapping him on the back and shaking his hand. Luna was jostled back and forth against the crowd.   
  
“Statute be damned?” Michael asked with a  grin as a man pulled Michael into a hug.   
  
“All the necessary protections,” the boy replied with a matching grin. “See, this is why I told Sarah to invite Spellmasters. They may not be fun, but they can repel the hell out of some Muggles.”  
  
“Good point Kevin,” Michael laughed, already relaxing at the sight of his closest friend from STRIKE, excluding his partners. A few more people hit Michael on the shoulder and made greetings and hellos he didn’t really distinguish and the crowd began to disperse save for about five people listening to their conversation. Michael noticed two girls whispering, their eyes on Luna, who was smiling pleasantly at Kevin, hands behind her back, swaying a little on the spot. “Well, I might as well do it now before someone asks a stupid question – you need to meet my girlfriend, Tatiana.”  
  
Luna stepped forward and extended her hand. Kevin’s face lit up as he shook it. “You finally find a steady girlfriend on a job?” he asked Michael incredulously. “I'm Kevin Remmer,” he added to Luna. “Your boyfriend once spent three days tracking what turned out to be a lovely family of five rather than a cult of Dark Wizards and broke his collarbone falling off a roof in Beijing.”  
  
“Thanks Kevin,” Michael rolled his eyes. “To be fair, that family was shady as hell. And you know how I feel about the collarbone thing! And Sarah and I got that guy anyway.”  
  
“I knew about the second one,” Luna told Kevin. He raised his eyebrows.   
  
“Did you?” He looked sideways at Michael. “And so he told you….?”  
  
“I told her enough,” Michael muttered quietly to Kevin. “Don't worry about it. Tatiana’s fine, she knows how important discretion is. No need to make a big deal about this.”  
  
Kevin looked at him for a moment, then at Luna, who remained smiling. “Well, Michael may be a terrible spy, but he’s also my friend. And more importantly, he's my boss – and he's not bad at fighting people. So your secret’s safe with me.” He made a silent motion as if zipping his mouth shut.   
  
“Where is Sarah?” Luna asked her new friend, who jerked his head towards the house.  
  
“In her castle,” he told them with a smirk. “I guess there are perks to having a daddy who used to be the number three in American magical politics…you know who she’s with in there?”  
  
“Jeff…?” Michael asked. Kevin shook his head.  
  
“Harry Potter!” he said excitedly. “You guys brought Harry Potter here? Man, you know the other Captains are going to hear about this from someone….”   
  
Michael cast a careful look at Luna, who nodded slightly. “I know. I also don't care. Anyway…we’re going to go find them. Join us in the witch hunt?”  
  
“Can't,” Kevin muttered, his eyes shifting to the Witches who had been whispering about Luna. “I'm determined,” he added, a glint in his eyes.  
  
“Happy hunting,” Michael laughed, hitting him on the arm and setting off towards the house, Luna beside him. As Kevin moved in, Luna moved in closer to Michael.  
  
“You undersell yourself sometimes,” she said dreamily. Michael frowned.   
  
“How so?”  
  
“You talk like you're only Captain because you're good at fighting, but I think you executed a very clean sleight of hand there. If everyone had just saw you brought me, that would be all your Captains would hear about. Instead they’ll all be talking about Harry Potter.”  
  
“Well I've always wanted to party with Harry,” Michael admitted. “But that  _was_  part of the plan. I might get chewed out for brining four civilians, but they won't focus on you any more than they will Ron or Hermione. Hey Ron, Hermione,” he added, seeing a pair of familiar heads in a group of four people just ahead of them.  
  
Both turned immediately at the sound of his voice. Hermione hurried over to them; Ron remained engrossed in conversation with a pair of Special Forces agents.   
  
“Merry Christmas!” she said happily, hugging Luna and smiling at Michael. “How was yours?”  
  
“Pretty good,” Michael replied, looking over her shoulder at Ron. “You go skiing again?” She nodded. “I'm pretty good at snowboarding, but I've never skied. What's Ron up to?”  
  
“Oh well, you know he wants to be an Auror, I suppose he feels your division is just as good a source of information on the job,” she said, not sparing a glance. Michael shook his head.  
  
“Nope. Not tonight. We’re getting him drunk. You okay with that Hermione?”  
  
“You and Ron can do what you like,” she said indifferently.   
  
“No,  _you're_ getting him drunk,” Michael corrected her. “Its funnier that way. Where’s Harry?”  
  
“Holed up in the house doing interviews,” Hermione answered.  
  
Michael rubbed his eyes. “Shall we go bail him out?” Hermione finally cast a glance over her shoulder and Michael laughed. “You stay here, Luna and I will bring you ammunition shortly. Bye Ron!” he yelled. Ron raised his hand absentmindedly as the two agents jabbered on to him.   
  
They came up to the front of the house – the front door was blocked by a mob of people. “Come on, Loon,” Michael said very quietly, so only she could hear him, “Let’s go see the others…” He pulled her through the crowd, dodging friends bombarding him with questions, weaving in between people, ducking a boy who held out a funnel to him, and entered the house.   
  
“YOU!” he shouted as soon as they entered the kitchen full of people. Jeff and Sarah were leaning against a bar together, talking, slightly apart from the others. Michael appreciated that Sarah had done her hair very nicely for the party, but the effect was slightly ruined by the way she and Jeff giggled at each other and occasionally smacked each other playfully. Each had a hand busy with a bottle of some kind of alcohol. Making a mental note to give them space, Michael turned his attention to the boy he had shouted at. Harry was surrounded on all sides and quickly looked for Michael in the crowd. Michael impatiently jerked his hand for them to join he and Luna.  
  
“What are you all, twelve?” he demanded of the assorted STRIKE agents. “Leave Potter alone. There are plenty of people we need to torture information out of. He's not one of them.” Harry frowned as everyone else laughed and he joined Michael. “Just kidding about the torture thing – it’s one of the few hard rules in STRIKE. How’re you doing though? Want a drink?”  
  
“Got anything Muggle?” Harry asked daringly, his eyes sweeping the crowd still watching him.   
  
“Hell if I know, it’s not my house…” Michael shrugged. He marched his party over to Jeff and Sarah, who were both trying to stamp on the other’s feet, almost falling over each time and having to grab on to the other for support.   
  
“Are you two already fucked up?” Michael asked disdainfully as they finally acknowledged his presence. “Didn’t everyone get here thirty minutes ago?”  
  
“Most people did,” Jeff said slyly. Michael cocked an eyebrow at him.   
  
“I got tired of fighting with Jace so I came by early to go with Sarah to buy liquor,” Jeff said, remarkably composed. Luna unexpectedly giggled at this. Sarah shot her a dirty look, but was quickly laughing herself.   
  
“Is your brother here?” Luna asked, quickly composing herself.   
  
“Somewhere,” Jeff shrugged uncaringly.   
  
“Harry wants something different – something  _Muggle_ ,” Michael told Sarah with a wink. “Did you buy anything?”  
  
“Potter…” Sarah sighed exasperatedly. But Jeff shook his head. “I'm a fan of Muggle beer myself. There's some on that table over there,” he pointed across the room, “if you can fight your way to it.” Harry nodded appreciatively and wandered off, quickly being swallowed and beleaguered by several boys having drinks at the table.  
  
“So how have you two,” Sarah dropped her voice so far Michael had to read her lips, “ _married_ people been? Fun Christmas together?”  
  
“Yeah, I want to have you two over to see the house…but there’s a two drink minimum.”  
  
“We can cover it,” Jeff grinned. Luna tapped him on the shoulder.  
  
“What should we have?”  
  
“You want to drink Loon?” Michael asked her in surprise. He had had a few drinks with Luna before, she wasn’t opposed to it, but she rarely indulged the way Jeff and Sarah currently were. She twirled her hair dreamily.  
  
“It is a party? Why not?”  
  
******************************************************************************  
  
“Lu – Tatiana, I love you, but you're talking crazy,” Michael said sadly, shaking his head, barely catching his mistake. He looked expectantly at Kevin, who took a drag from his cigarette and nodded agreement with him, missing the mistake in his stupor.   
  
“I don't think so,” Luna said, hiccupping a little. She appealed to Ron and Harry, who crossed their arms, smirking and swaying in their support of her.  
  
“Come on!” Michael cried. “A hamburger is  _so_  a sandwich!”  
  
“You're drunk,” Ron said aloofly.   
  
“Yeah, but that doesn’t make a burger and less of a sandwich,” Michael said furiously. He, Luna, Kevin, Ron, Harry, and Hermione were gathered on a second floor balcony engaged in a heated debate Michael and Jeff had often battled over. He had wanted to find Sarah to appeal for her help, as she had always taken his side in this, but neither of them had been seen in well over an hour.  
  
“Why is it a sandwich?” Luna asked clearly. She was by far the most sober of any of them. Hermione had had relatively little to drink as well, but soon discovered she didn’t handle her liquor quite as well.  
  
“It’s meat, cheese, and vegetables in between two piece of bread!” Michael almost yelled. “That’s a sandwich!”  
  
“If meat in between bread is a sandwich, is a hot dog a sandwich?” Harry asked smugly, leaning against the balcony fence.  
  
“The fuck is a hot dog?” Michael asked, rubbing the back of his neck.  
  
“No, because the bread is connected!” Kevin raged at Harry.  
  
“So a sub isn’t a sandwich?” Ron asked pointedly. Michael and Kevin looked at each other and muttered a variety of curses.   
  
Harry, Ron, and Luna shared a triumphant drink. Hermione simply looked pleased the argument was over.  
  
“You know what  _Potter_ ,” Michael said, shooting Harry a nasty look. “I'm getting pretty sick of your attitude.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” Harry asked, narrowing his eyes at Michael.  
  
“Yeah,” Michael slurred. “Draw!” His hand flew to his new wand holster and he had leveled his wand at Harry in record time. He was shocked to find Harry was almost as fast. “Damn,” Michael cursed, impressed. “I just wanted to show off the holster she gave me for Christmas. Pretty fast, Harry.”  
  
“You may lead a division, Michael, but I led an army,” Harry said, with a cockiness he would never have displayed without the influence of five beers.  
  
“I'm just glad that sandwich debate is over,” Hermione said loftily. She had been leaning over the balcony, paying them little attention. “I was starting to think it was going to destroy Michael and Luna’s marriage.”  
  
There was a moment of silence in which everyone digested what Hermione had just said in their own way. Kevin’s face showed total confusion as he looked at Michael and Luna and Hermione gasped. Harry choked on his victory drink and Ron stared at Hermione with wide eyes.  
  
“What?” Kevin said blankly, looking in between the couple. “Luna? Marriage? Michael, what is this?”  
  
Michael took a moment to collect his thoughts, and a knowing look passed between he and Harry. Neither man sheathed their wands.  
  
“Kevin…dammit…well, STRIKE thinks I'm keeping them in the dark about my mission. It’s not my mission I've been keeping from them.”  
  
“Why the secrecy?” he asked Michael, looking slightly betrayed. “You can marry whoever you want, why put everything at risk here?”  
  
Michael sighed very deeply, but Luna preempted him. Speaking remarkably lucidly for someone who had enjoyed themselves as much as she had, Luna launched into their story. She took less time telling it than Michael would have, but covered all the important bits. Michael supposed her father’s journalism career had given her this ability.  
  
“Elysina Lovegood…” Kevin said, shaking his head. He was looking at Luna in awe, as if he had never seen a female before. “I've heard stories about her…she was supposed to be unbeatable. Well…until what happened at your house, I guess,” he added apologetically. “And you knew her back then Michael…damn. Just…damn.”  
  
“Can we count on you to keep this between us?” Michael asked his friend, looking him straight in the eyes, but not attempting Legilmency. He had more respect for Kevin than that.  
  
Kevin finished his drink, which had been half full. He set the glass down hard on the table in the middle of the balcony, next to the bottle he had been filling it from. “I’ll do you one better. Keep your MD on Michael,” he said seriously, “and I’ll keep you up to date on anything STRIKE is doing that might mean they suspect you.”  
  
“You’ll spy on our spy organization for us?” Michael asked.  
  
“Duh,” Kevin belched. “I'm your friend. And again – you're my boss. Plus, if you don't mind me saying so, your wife is pretty much the most pleasant person I've ever been around. How do you have any enemies?” he asked her incredulously. “You're impossible to hate.”  
  
Michael had never seen Luna at a loss for words, but she seemed to not know what to say to this. She merely took a drink and smiled at Kevin. Michael thought he saw her eyes water up for a second, but then she blinked at her big blue orbs were clear again.  
  
“I…I think I've had enough fun for the night,” Hermione said shakily, still leaning over the balcony. Michael crossed his arms severely at her.  
  
“Hermione, you're not going to throw up. You're better than that. Plus…you didn’t drink that much. And I forgive you for betraying my family’s secret to an organization that easily has the power to eliminate us all if they wanted to.”  
  
“No they don't,” Luna opined.   
  
Kevin smiled wryly at her as he refilled his drink. “Luna, I don't doubt you're talented, but you don't know what STRIKE’s capable of. If they were to bring their full might to bear against you –”  
  
“We’d make it,” Luna interrupted. “All we’d have to do is move. Keep moving. Maybe somewhere on an island,” she added to Michael. “But I don't want to do that. I like my house.”  
  
Kevin raised his glass in salute to her and took another drink. “Doesn’t Sarah’s dad have a library here?” he asked Michael. Hermione’s attention instantly jumped to him. Michael nodded. “Maybe you should check it out,” he said to Hermione. “Since you're done having fun, apparently.”   
  
“That sounds wonderful,” Hermione said wearily.  
  
“Let’s go then,” Michael said, looking at her in disbelief. “I’ll show you.”  
  
“I’ll come too,” Luna said dreamily, standing up from her seat at the table and following them back into the house. It was getting late and Michael was beginning to get tired. The house was mostly empty; he had been on the balcony for about an hour but he assumed most of the STRIKE agents had Apparated back home by now. He wondered vaguely where Jeff and Sarah were, then decided he was better off not knowing.   
  
Michael remembered the library being somewhere on the second floor so they wandered about Sarah’s sprawling home, Michael tiredly noting damage here and there Sarah would no doubt want their help repairing in the morning. Down the hallway, right turn, left turn, second door on the left…Michael was fairly certain this was the correct room. He turned the handle and flipped on the lights with a snap of his fingers.   
  
All the color immediately drained from his face.  
  
Jeff and Sarah were smashed up against a bookshelf, all four hands very active. Their faces were pressed together and Sarah’s shirt was dangling limply over the back of a chair on the other side of the room.   
  
“Hello Jeff, Sarah!” Luna called out to them. They each jumped almost a foot in the air and spun around to stare wide eyed at Michael, Luna, and Hermione.   
  
“Oh Lord,” Hermione gasped. And with that, she was gone, fleeing the room before either Jeff or Sarah could say a word. Luna seemed unbothered by this.   
  
“I'm glad you're having fun together, but Hermione really wanted to – Michael, are you all right?” Luna asked suddenly, for Michael had begun making very unusual noises. Jeff and Sarah seemed too horrified to really take note, or do anything but stand there like statues. “Michael?   
  
Michael's mouth was closed, but small bursts of air were escaping his trembling lips. His face was changing colors and he began chewing desperately on his lower lip.  
  
“Michael?”Michael could no longer keep his lips sealed – Firewhiskey shots had robbed him of this discretion. His teeth were now bared in what would have looked like a leer if he had not been plainly grinning. Sarah’s arms were crossed over her chest and Jeff’s mouth was wide open.  
  
Finally, it happened. Michael could take it no more. He began to laugh in a way he never had before. No joke, no victory, no injury to a friend had ever been like this. His laughter started deep and loud, then slowly climbed up to almost high pitched giggling. Luna was looking at him with great concern, now paying no attention to their half dressed friends. Jeff was slowly beginning to grin too, though he was obviously fighting it.  
  
“Oh my God!” Michael almost yelled, wrapping his arms around himself and rocking back and forth. “I just – I don't –” He stopped laughing for a second, took another look at them, and then began anew with more vigor. He suddenly lost strength in his legs and fell to the floor.   
  
“They're Death Eaters!” Michael cried gleefully, tears welling up in his eyes. Luna cocked her head at him. “Voldemort sent them to kill me with laughter! I'm going to laugh myself to death! They're fucking Death Eaters Luna! I have no defense against this!”  
  
“Sarah, did you notice you're still not wearing a shirt?” Luna asked, turning her attention from her rolling husband. Sarah – who’s face had been relatively blank – suddenly widened her eyes and looked down at herself. “Do you want Jeff to go back to covering you with his hands?”  
  
Sarah shook her head dumbly as Jeff looked hopeful. Michael was beginning to worry he might be sick. He was then overwhelmed with a wave of sadness as he realized he would never again see something this funny in his life.  
  
“Do you want me to get you your shirt?” Luna asked kindly, reaching out a hand to summon it from the chair.  
  
“No!” Sarah finally spoke, shaking her head frantically. Needing her arms in place to preserve what remained of her modesty, she could do nothing to stop Luna catching her shirt and stepping over the slowly recovering Michael to hand it to Sarah. Luna paused as she was about to hand Sarah her clothes.   
  
“Do you want me to wash this and get you a new shirt?” she asked, crinkling her nose. “It smell funny.” She leaned in and sniffed both Jeff and Sarah, who looked highly amused and horrified, respectively.  
  
Michael's eyes grew wide as he tried to push himself from the floor. He locked eyes with Jeff, who quickly went back to staring at Sarah’s chest.   
  
“No…” Michael said in a hush. “Oh…please…please tell me…Loon! Throw me that shirt!”  
  
Luna turned and tossed the Sarah’s shirt down to him as its owner looked on helplessly. Michael held it to his nose and took a whiff. He was rolling on the ground again within seconds.  
  
“Shut up!” Sarah said furiously.  
  
“Gillyweed!” Michael choked out from the floor. He had been wrong – he had found something funnier than what he had discovered minutes ago. “You two were in the library smoking Gillyweed!”  
  
“It…should have been empty,” Jeff muttered under his breath. But then he grinned.   
  
“I should’ve known with Hermione here…” Sarah said in a strangely deadpan voice. “I'm never going to be able to face her again…”  
  
“Why not?” Luna asked honestly. “It’s only sex.”  
  
“We weren’t having sex!” Sarah said crossly.  
  
“Yet,” Jeff said under his breath, shooting Michael a very dirty look. Michael – on his hands and knees – caught his eye and collapsed once again onto the ground.  
  
“I'm going to bed…” Sarah said tiredly. “You all can stay here tonight. Can I have my shirt back, please?” Michael threw it at her. She turned her back to them and pulled it on over her head. She turned back around and began to head out and for her bedroom. Jeff hesitated for a minute, apparently unsure what to do with himself. Sarah paused at the door, looked over her shoulder at Jeff, obviously surprised to see him not behind her. She jerked her head at him. Jeff’s grin spread across his entire face as he tripped on his way to follow her. Sarah gave no indication this meant anything and merely began walking again. Luna was still looking at Michael as though worried he might have a serious medical condition. Sarah called to them from down the hall. “Good night all! Thanks for coming…Michael, if you don't stop laughing I'm going to have Luna put a memory charm on you!”


	28. Chapter 28: Paradise Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna and Michael's eyes met. He smiled at her in a way that suddenly assured her they would survive this. But then Michael was gone, rushing towards the largest Lacerte, the armored leader, Cruxien.

Luna awoke in a daze. She rubbed her eyes, slowly sitting up on disheveled bed. She smiled down at the place on the bed next to her, but then frowned. Michael was not there. 

 

Assuming he was already up and in some other part of the house, she rolled her shoulders a few times, then her head, and finally her ankles, enjoying her usual morning ritual. She jumped to her feet and patted her pockets – her wand was not there. She quickly realized she had no memory of going to bed the previous night apart from collapsing in an unused bedroom with her husband, fully clothed and exhausted.

 

Her eyes drifted to the nightstand beside the bed and with a sigh of relief she found her wand resting on it. Luna gave it a quick wave to make the bed and then slid it into her pocket. Satisfied she had demonstrated proper manners, she left the bedroom and headed downstairs to see who else was awake.

 

She tiptoed through a few rooms into the kitchen, looking around for her husband. A soft light came in through the window. Checking her watch, Luna discovered it was a little after seven thirty. Michael wasn’t in the kitchen either, though Jeff was.

 

He was rummaging through the refrigerator, pulling things out and setting them on the table behind him. His back was to her and he didn’t hear Luna enter.

 

“Hello Jeff,” she said quietly, not wanting to wake the others. He jumped and spun around, holding a carton of milk in one hand.

 

“Oh, Luna it’s you,” he said, shaking his head and setting down his milk. He instead started up the coffee maker. It turned on with a loud grinding noise. “Do you know where Michael is? He’s gone, I'm sure you noticed.”

 

“No, I have no idea where he is,” Luna replied, more curious than worried. It wasn’t like Michael to disappear without at least telling her where he was going, but Luna had total faith in her husband and knew he wouldn’t willing get into something over his head. “Jeff?”  
  
“Hmm?” Jeff’s eyes were very red.

 

“How long have you and Sarah been sleeping together?”  
  
Jeff groaned and rubbed his face up and down with his free hand. “You remember that, huh? Well, we were drunk, okay?”  
  
Luna smiled at him, unabashed. “But that wasn’t your first time together.”  
  
“How do you know that?” Jeff asked, spinning around to look at her. His face betrayed the truth.

 

“Like you said – you were both very drunk. And under the influence of some other substances. Not that there's anything wrong with that,” she said kindly, “if anything she took advantage of you.” Jeff gave Luna a very dirty look and shook his head. “But I know you two. Your first time to have sex is a very special moment – you wouldn’t want to do it with the room spinning.”

 

Jeff’s face had turned slightly red but Luna looked normal as ever. She could have been discussing someone’s first day of school.

 

“Who made you the expert?” Jeff demanded.

 

“Well I am married,” Luna said fairly, with a little shrug.

 

Jeff just looked at her for a moment. “Since we went home from Hogwarts,” he simply said. He gave Luna a shifty smile she returned.

 

“What the hell?” Sarah muttered, staggering into the kitchen, looking bleary eyed and annoyed. “You couldn’t Silence the coffee maker? It woke me up all the way in my room.”

 

“Did someone say Michael’s gone?” Harry asked, joining them in the dim kitchen. He was followed by Hermione and Ron, Hermione not looking nearly as perky as usual.

 

“Yeah, he just disappeared,” Jeff said, waving his wand to cause six mugs to appear on the counter next to him. He picked one up and filled it with coffee, taking a large drink despite the burning. “Sorry I woke you.”

 

“Its fine, just give me a cup,” Hermione mumbled, massaging her head. Jeff quickly handed her the second mug, and she took a drink even larger than his.

 

“So…no one saw him leave?” Ron asked the group at large. Everyone shook their heads. “Are we the only people left in the house?”  
  
“I think so,” Sarah said. “I didn’t see anyone else on my way down.”  
  
“Nor did I,” Luna added.

 

“I hope he's all right,” Harry said, frowning. He was looking at Luna. “You don't think….?”  
  
“Do I think STRIKE captured him last night?” Luna filled in. “No, I don't. Even if they surprised him, he was sleeping right next to me. I would know.”  
  
“Last night your friend…Kevin?” Hermione inquired of Jeff and Sarah, “found out about Michael and Luna. But he's on our side, he even said he would keep them supplied with information if anyone became suspicious of them.”  
  
“He did?” Jeff asked. “How did he find out?” Hermione looked at her feet and everyone else suddenly became fixated on random items around the kitchen. Jeff shrugged. “Well Kevin’s a good guy – he wouldn’t sell you out. If Michael left, he left of his own accord. Maybe I should check my MD. I haven't bothered with it much lately, but who knows….”

 

Luna nodded seriously at him and he turned on the spot to Apparate away, Luna assuming he had left his disc at home. Sarah stared at the spot he had occupied for a second, but then said, “Well, Ron, without them you’ll have to eat more than your usual share. Think you can cover for them?”  
  
“What?” Ron said sharply. He hadn’t been paying attention to Sarah; he too was staring at the floor though with a much different expression on his face. Luna wondered precisely how hungover he was.

 

“I’ll help with breakfast,” Harry offered. All eyes turned on him in surprise. “What?” he said, a little defensively. “The Dursleys used to make me cook for them – until they started to worry I’d poison them.”

 

“The thought never crossed your mind?” Sarah asked, raising her eyebrows.

 

“Not really,” Harry said indifferently. “They were killing themselves, the way they ate.”

 

Ron and Sarah both laughed at that. Hermione simply shook her head sadly. Luna perched up on a countertop and shut her eyes, attempting to shut her ears as well. Luna never had trouble drifting off into her own little world but at the moment it was Michael's world she was interested in. She searched herself and everything around her, not knowing how she would find him but knowing exactly what she needed to find. This was one of the branches of magic Luna was very disappointed they did not teach at Hogwarts. She supposed it was understandable as it was such a vague form of magic with no set incantation or teaching method.

 

Finally, her mind touched something. She wasn’t sure what it was – not in this darkness – so her brain began to grope at whatever she had found. Outwardly, Luna smiled – this was Michael. She knew his feel. He was alive, that much was obvious.  But wherever he was, he wasn’t responding to her touch. Luna didn’t find this especially strange as he probably had no idea she was trying to reach him, but it piqued her curiosity nonetheless.

 

She pulled back and opened her eyes, ready to report back to her friends. It seemed Jeff had already beaten her to the punch. The look on his face – which had earlier told her all she needed to know about his sex life – now made her fear for her husband’s.

 

“There’s several messages on here – all from Michael,” he said slowly. “I haven't listened to them yet. Let’s see….”

 

Jeff drew his wand out and it to the side of the disc. A hologram of Michael from the waist up appeared from the disc, and began to speak to them in a subdued voice. He looked a little anxious and nervous, but wide awake, a complete contrast to the other six, all of whom were just beginning to shake off the sluggishness of alcohol induced sleep.

 

“So…hi guys,” he began, checking his wand as he said it. “I'm sure you’ve noticed by now that I'm gone. Somebody – Harry, maybe? – has probably suggested STRIKE might’ve taken me after everyone went to bed last night. Well, you're right and wrong. Somebody did talk…but not about the details. But Kevin did tell me I was immediately recalled to explain why the hell I brought four civilians to the party. I tried to slip out without waking you, Luna, it wasn’t a big deal. Anyway…long story short, we’re clear, I explained everything away. But….” Here, Michael looked a little embarrassed. “Well, I haven't been answering hails from STRIKE for a while. Turns out they have information on another item of the Seven. I'm going to recover it, but I should be back before any of you wake up. None of you will probably ever see this.”

 

His hand disappeared from view, sheathing his wand as the message ended. Jeff tapped his wand to the stone again.

 

Michael popped up again, though this time his hair was slightly disheveled, his face was scratched. He looked extremely harried.

 

“I'm on the job right now,” he said, now speaking much more quietly. “Everything’s going fine on my end, but I ran into a few Death Eaters. No trouble in and of themselves, but they were saying something about Lacerte…I don't know, I have a bad feeling. Keep your heads up guys.”

 

The hologram bleeped and buzzed, then faded away, the stone slowly dimming. One more message remained. Jeff slowly raised his wand to his MD again.

 

“I'm done!” Michael said loudly, now plainly injured. Luna couldn’t help but gasp. “I got it! But they're definitely coming for you, the Lacerte! I just ran into Owen Stetnas, I only had time to engage him briefly, we broke off pretty quick. I needed past him, but I'm not sure why he disengaged. He might be coming there too, I don’t know. I sent a call to Sirius Black for help, everyone else will be too asleep to come. I’ll join you shortly, just survive!” Michael paused for a poignant second. “I love you all.” And then he was gone.

 

For a split second the six teens looked at each other in shock, unable to say a thing. Sarah spoke first.

 

“I know for certain some of the agents here last night put up every ward imaginable – anti-Apparition, Muggle repelling, and standard defensive charms against Dark Wizards. They can't come here.”  
  
“Yes they can,” Luna said quickly, remembering a conversation she and Michael had had weeks ago after dueling Owen Stetnas. She jumped down from the countertop. “The Death Eaters can't, but these wards won't keep out creatures like the Lacerte. They’ll be here any second.”

 

Harry seemed to know she was right and drew his wand to attempt some form of protective magic. It was pointlessly late however, as at that same second there was a rapid succession of loud cracks, the sound resembling machine gun fire. Spells shot through the windows and slammed into the walls, exploding the refrigerator.

 

Ron yelled out as luck determined he was the first to be hit, a piece of glass slicing his arm. He grabbed it with his empty hand to stanch the bleeding and all six teens crouched low and ran as fast as they could towards the family room. They entered the room and sprinted into the next, hurrying up the stairs. The bottom steps were blasted out from under them, and they ran faster than ever to ascend the stairs.

 

A loud hiss told them the Lacerte had entered the house. Sarah threw open the a hallway door, and they all hurried through it. Luna, bringing up the rear, yelled “ _Colloportus_!” as she did.

 

“What do we do?” Hermione screamed. “We don't have anywhere to run!”

 

“We survive!” Luna replied, her face set and determined, barely any fear evident on it. “Focus on casting as many spells as you can! They can use magic, but even with so many of them, their curses won't be a match for ours!”

 

The other five nodded and together, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Jeff Allero, Sarah Crystalake, and Luna Jacobs pointed their wands at the door and back slightly away into the spacious loft like room they had entered. They had trapped themselves, but each was confident in each others’ ability to fight as long as they were not blindsided.

 

A few more seconds of terrifying wait shook them, then the door exploded under the force of ten different spells. An endless sea of Lacerte poured in, more than Luna had ever seen or expected. Michael's absence invigorated her however, and she was the first to launch her barrage of spells, tearing into the first wave of dagger waving lizards, while their wand wielding counterparts stayed farther back.

 

Spells immediately smashed against each other, but time and time again the Lacerte proved inferior to the Wizards and Witches who had pushed themselves so hard and trained so much to become strong enough to not only survive but excel in situations exactly like this. With Luna at the lead, the group set in to defend themselves.

 

Even the power and weight of the spells issuing from the six wands was not enough to hold the lizard creatures long, and to complicate things several of the Lacerte seemed to be unusually skilled in magical combat; Harry and Hermione were locked in individual duels, leaving the other four to defend themselves against the advancing horde.

 

Soon, the combat degenerated into close quarters dueling, and each teen frantically fought multiple enemies at once. It would have been overwhelming, but the small space afforded them advantage simply by helping stem the numbers of Lacerte in the battle at one time.

 

Luna couldn’t help but notice in the heat of battle – as she ducked and blasted through a pair of Lacerte – that she was beginning to develop a real instinct for combat. She knew Michael hadn’t wanted this, but it was unavoidable. They may have been young – as they proved last night – but they were also soldiers in a war. Their current situation was obvious testament to this. Luna threw her wand in the air, stretched out  both palms to propel a gaggle of Lacerte out the second floor window, then caught her wand back in her right hand, keeping her left hand outstretched until a short blade with a sapphire encrusted hilt appeared in it.

 

She kept her Peach wand in her off hand, while her left handled the Sword of Ravenclaw. She weaved in-between the Lacerte with a grace strangely at odds with the fierceness with which she struck, smiting as many creatures as she could without risking injury to her friends.

 

The room had been almost completely filled when the battle began, overwhelmed with no less than twenty Lacerte, though now it appeared much emptier, the floor now covered with bodies and a mixture of red and purplish blood.

 

Almost every Lacerte was unconscious, incapacitated, or dead. Luna, Jeff, Ron, and Sarah had all struck to kill, though sparingly, but Harry and Hermione had avoided use of the Unforgivables for the most part. Only five Lacerte remained, then three as Harry and Hermione struck down the one each faced. Luna spun in an elegant circle, the blade of the Ravenclaw sword nicking the throat of each Lacerte. They fell to the ground with a hissing gasp, and then moved no more.

 

All six were breathing heavily, but overwhelmed with a foreign feeling of power and victory.

 

“Do you smell smoke?” Harry panted, clutching his shoulder, where one of the Lacerte’s blades had cut him.

 

“Dammit, the house is on fire!” Jeff yelled. He hurried out of the room and down the stairs, wand at the ready, jumping over bodies. The others followed quickly.

 

The fire was spreading quickly, and smoke filled the living room and entryway. It was impossible to tell where the fire had started, though it was clear there was no stopping it. Not if, judging by the shouts and yells outside, a battle still raged.

 

Luna led the way through the front door, onto the front lawn, where a fight was indeed still on. Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius Black, and Michael Jacobs were in the dead middle of a mass of no less than thirty Lacerte, shoulder to shoulder in a tight square fending off the creatures.

 

Luna, who was still clutching the Sword, ran straight for the crowd, completely forgetting logic in her desperation to join Michael. The other five unleashed a barrage of spells blowing a hole in the tightly packed Lacerte. A few turned just in time to be cut down by Luna; they fell to the ground, lifeless. Luna didn’t enjoy this – killing still made her feel guilty after the fact, but concern for her friends and husband drove all else from her mind.

 

 Apart from her father, her five friends and Michael were all she had.

 

Realizing others had joined the fight; the Lacerte broke from their circle and began to engage each of the ten humans. Both sides broke ranks and the first full scale battle since the Ministry of Magic the previous summer began.

 

Ten wizards and witches faced off against nearly fifty Lacerte, spells flying everywhere, meeting and exploding, annihilating the silence that should have accompanied the early morning.

 

Ron tidily exterminated two Lacerte with a small Blasting Curse, then yelled at Hermione to duck as he sent a Stunner at the lizard behind her. She did so, dodging the swing of another’s sword, and looked up in time to see the creature fall.

 

Remus, Tonks, and Sirius fought with all the skill expected of an Order member, Auror, and STRIKE member, though Tonks and Sirius were technically a mix. Behind them, Sarah’s house had begun to burn intensely. Flames leapt out of the windows and smoke billowed from the roof.

 

Jeff took on his wolf form and were dashing in between groups of Lacerte, jumping up and attacking when the opportunity was presented. Sarah aimed her wand at the ground and shouted a curse that exploded the dirt under their clawed feet, leaving nothing but a crater horribly similar to the one outside the Jacobs’ home. Harry was a popular target for Lacerte with wands and found himself constantly on the defensive.

 

Both the occupants of that home weaved together through the Lacerte, the swords of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw bringing an end to a multitude of Lacerte lives. All ten humans were injured in some way: cut, burned, or cursed, except for Michael, who seemed to be completely untouched, and was fighting more fiercely than Luna had ever seen.

 

Michael drove his blade through a Lacerte but was denied time to extract it as he was immediately set upon by five more. He allowed the mess of lizard and metal to fall as one, the sword digging into the ground and standing in place.   
  
“ _Stupefy_!” was Michael's opening curse, knocking one Lacerte hard on its back. He blocked an incoming curse with a wordless swipe of his wand; the spell ricocheted off into the burning house, exploding within. Completing the motion, Michael swung his arm back across his body with a muttered curse that produced a visible crescent moon of blue magic which spun towards three more Lacerte like a boomerang, slicing them in such a way that Luna actually had to look away. The final lizard had rushed Michael from behind, brandishing a sword. Luna screamed a warning Michael did not require, as he spun just in time to grab the Lacerte’s dropping arm with his left hand, delivering a blow with his curled right fist to the monster’s stomach, causing it to double over. Michael swiftly kicked the Lacerte’s legs out from under it, ripping the sword from its grasp and in the same motion, thrusting it into its scaly torso so it too was impaled, fixed to the ground as if by a stake.

 

Luna and Michael's eyes met. He smiled at her in a way that suddenly assured her they would survive this. But then Michael was gone, rushing towards the largest Lacerte, the armored leader, Cruxien.

 

Michael secured his wand again in its holster; retrieving the Sword of Gryffindor from where he had left it on his way to face the giant. The creature, which had been at a distance to the fight, bellowing orders in its own language and gesturing with its sword, took notice of the Wizard rushing it and assumed a dueling stance. Michael wasted no time, aiming a chop at Cruxien’s head. He was using both hands to fight Cruxien, whose brute strength in no way made him a slower opponent. Now only about twenty Lacerte remained, and Luna was using just her wand, protecting her husband from a blindside attack from any surviving creatures.

 

Michael backed Cruxien up the few steps towards the blazing house. He ducked a swing from the broadsword and responded with a quick thrust at his enemy’s scaly chest, though it was parried. He was plainly sweating, likely both from the combat and the heat from the fire.

 

The swords met again, but this time the Lacerte’s strength proved too much and Michael’s blade flew out of his hand. Not particularly inconvenienced, Michael leapt backwards and drew his wand again, ready to shout a spell to end the Lacerte. That was as far as he got.

 

Michael never saw the jet of green light that struck him in the side.

 

Sirius had seen Michael disarmed and attempted to save him by firing a Killing Curse at Cruxien. Magic was not accurate at that distance however, and Michael had been exactly where the curse had been headed, a few feet to the left of its intended target. It was all an accident.

 

That's how Luna would explain it to herself later. At that moment, nothing crossed her mind. Nothing at all.

 

Michael was lifted by the force of the spell and thrown away from the Lacerte leader and into the burning building.

 

There were screams of shook and terror. Luna’s was the loudest; her heart broke instantly at the sight of her husband, his eyes glazed, lifeless, landing in the midst of the flames. She screamed like she never had in her life – worse even than when her mother had died.

 

Cruxien made a loud hiss like roar of triumph, and turned to face the others, parrying several curses. He seemed to want to finish the rest, but decided he had too few troops left, and made to Disapparate.

 

Finding he couldn’t, as Sarah’s wards were still in place, he pushed out his chest, throwing his sword aside, and began a wand duel with Harry and Sarah. Jeff and Ron as wolves tore into the remaining Lacerte, every ounce of purple blood spilled in an attempt to ease the pain wracking them. Lupin and Tonks were still fighting too, trying to eliminate the remaining few creatures. Hermione’s arm was shaking so much her curses were flying in all directions. They looked shocked and horrorstruck, but they had no idea…they knew nothing of the pain she, Luna, was feeling…

 

Sirius was simply gone.

 

Luna remained perfectly still for about a second, mouth still open from her scream, wand hanging limply at her side. It was impossible. It had to be. Luna could believe anything, but the idea of Michael Jacobs, her husband and the one of the most powerful Wizards on earth, dying, was unfathomable. She could not, would not, lose both her mother and lover to Dark magic.

 

Luna screamed in true agony.

 

She shot a curse of condensed hatred at Cruxien, who had defeated Sarah, leaving Harry to do all he could to protect her unconscious form. It missed by inches, her hand was shaking too much to fire an accurate spell.

 

Harry hit the Lacerte with a Gouging Curse, drilling a deep hole in his shoulder. He jumped backwards and avoided Harry’s follow up Killing Curse, instead turning and learning he could indeed now Disapparate to Voldemort, with Sarah down. No doubt to relay the good news…that Michael Jacobs was dead….

 

The remaining Lacerte imitated him, vanishing out of the trajectory of Lupin, Tonks, and Jeff’s curses.

 

Luna immediately sprinted towards the crumbling house to find Michael, so he could make a smart-ass comment and brush the soot out of his dark hair, before planting a loving kiss on her lips.

 

People yelled her name, shouting pointless warnings to stay away from the fire. None of it made any sense to Luna as she ran past Harry, who tried to grab her arm but missed. Michael was in danger, why shouldn’t she try to save him?

 

“Because you can't,” said a tiny voice in her head. “Because Michael’s dead and nothing you do will bring him back.”

 

“No!” she cried out loud to herself. “He’s not dead! He’s not gone!”

 

She reached the front door through which Michael’s body had been flung, but was stopped a few feet short of the threshold.

 

With a terrible, shiver inducing scream, a last Lacerte jumped through of one of the glass windows on the second floor, hitting the ground in front of Luna with another scream of pain. Its skin was blackened and charred, and it stank of burnt flesh. It’s charred hand still clutched to a wand.

 

Luna’s shock was such that even her reflexes were too slow to raise her wand and utter coherent spell before it rushed forward and wrapped its arms around her, lifting her as it spun.

 

Both Luna and the burned Lacerte vanished on the spot, the spells fired by Harry and Lupin passing through the space they had just occupied.

 

Harry was crushed; his body ached and smarted, but his heart hurt much worse. He looked desperately at Remus, who was closest to him and had witnessed Luna’s capture.

 

“We can't put out the house!” Lupin yelled hoarsely. “The fire’s too big; it’s too much for any of us!” Harry quietly disagreed, thinking of two who could most certainly do this, but said nothing. To speak of Michael was too painful to contemplate, especially with Luna’s fate so dangerously in the balance.

 

Tonks came rushing to join them, followed by Jeff, Sarah, Hermione, and Ron. All were limping or clutching injuries. Sirius was still nowhere to be found. Hermione was leaning on Ron, trying to keep her weight off her left leg. Ron’s face was scratched and cut; he now had a scar on his chin similar to the one the Michael had worn for a year. Jeff and Sarah seemed too shocked to speak. They were holding each other, drawing resolve not to break down.

 

Harry couldn’t fathom this. Michael…how? Why? Why now, right after Christmas, right after he and Luna had spent their first holiday together. After they had spoken so excitedly to him last night, Luna talking more than Harry had ever seen her, about their new home and their desire for the entire group to come see the house.

 

“We have to go,” Jeff said suddenly. He was breathing extremely quickly and his words came out one by one. “They’ll be back, probably with Voldemort and Stetnas with them this time, now that they can Apparate in.”

 

“Come with us,” Tonks said quietly. “Michael, he was your friend, wasn’t he? I remember him…he was…good. We were Aurors…together. We’ll go to Grimmuald Place and figure things out.” She reached out a hand to Harry, but he shook it off.

 

“No, we can't,” he said firmly. Something was telling him what he had to do. He had to take charge; he had to save the others. “At least I'm not. We have a job to do, Michael dying doesn’t change that. We’ll be okay; they don’t know where we’d go.”

 

Tonks opened her mouth to argue, but Lupin placed a hand on her to silence her. He was looking at Harry closely, taking in his appearance and manner. He did not look sure he could make him come even if he wanted too, especially not with his other four friends there.

 

“Do you know where you’ll go?” he asked after a while, glancing around to make sure no one else had joined them.

 

“Yes,” Harry said simply. He looked long and hard at Remus, who eventually nodded.

 

“Be safe, don’t do anything foolish. Come to us if you need help – the Order will provide it. And I'm sorry about your friends,” he added sadly, gesturing at the burning building in which Michael’s body had surely now been reduced to ashes. The thought gave Harry chills.

 

“We’ll find her,” Jeff muttered, finally speaking. He was cradling his left arm, which seemed to be broken. “If Michael was still here, that would be the plan. So that's what we’re going to do.”

 

There was a murmur of consent. Sarah glanced around fearfully. Voldemort and Owen could arrive at any moment. It was strange. When they had spoken of Voldemort or Stetnas to Michael or Luna, it had usually been in a confident way, or else plotting revenge against them. Ron had even started using the Dark Lord’s name recently.

 

With the Jacobs gone, Voldemort once again seemed terrifying and close, able to strike at any second…they needed to move.

 

“About Sirius,” Harry began, but Sarah cut him off, her voice a mixture of sadness and resentment. Tears had began to flow down her face now. What was the point hiding them?

 

“It doesn’t matter,” she said harshly, “Michael’s dead. Luna’s at the mercy of Owen Stetnas, and we need to leave before Voldemort himself gets here.”

 

“All of you know where we’re going?” Harry asked quietly. The five survivors nodded solemnly. “Then let’s go.” They took a last look at the smoldering house, then all five turned on the spot, vanishing into darkness.

 

They touched frozen grass and pointed their wands in all directions. All were still in combat mode and wary of any threats. Finding none, Harry led the way up the side walk up to the door. He pointed his wand at the handle and said, “ _Alohamora_ ”. The door swung open immediately.

 

Hermione seemed as surprised Harry. “This was Michael and Luna’s house,” she reminded him quietly. “I was sure it would have powerful enchantments on it. What if it’s a trap?”

 

“It’s not,”  Jeff said, his voice unusually gruff. “They didn’t have any defensive wards on their house.”

 

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Sarah all stared at him.

  
“He told me last night, before you all went out to the balcony,” Jeff said, shutting his eyes. “He hadn’t been able to bring himself to talk to Luna about it. Her mother was tracked here by Dark Wizards – whether or not they worked for Voldemort I don't know – but they found her here. And they killed her. Michael knew they needed to protect the house if they wanted to avoid ending up the same way…but he didn’t want to hurt Luna. He was looking for the right way to tell her what needed to be done.”

 

Harry had no idea what to say to this, so he simply turned the knob and gently opened the door, looking around the house as he entered.

 

The others followed slowly, still impeded by their injuries. They passed through the kitchen, into the living room in silence. Sarah and Hermione collapsed onto the couch, both shaking. Hermione with the effort of holding back tears, Sarah from the force of her sobs.

 

Harry sat down next to Sarah and put an arm around her, while Ron staggered over to Hermione. It was extremely cramped, but that was what they needed then. Jeff was still in the kitchen, his back to them, trying to hide his face from them, pathetically embarrassed by the tears that rolled down his face.

 

No one spoke Michael or Luna’s names aloud. The horror of it all was too much, they simply couldn’t handle it now. Harry had a hard time looking anywhere in the house – it should have been Michael and Luna giving him the tour. Beside him, Sarah took a very deep breath, shut and opened her eyes, and steadied her breathing. She bit her lip and gave Harry a thankful nod, then stood up and walked with all the dignity she could muster to the kitchen.

 

“What are we going to do?” Hermione finally asked shakily. Her hand was tightly enclosed in Ron’s, who hastily wiped his eyes as everyone turned to look at them. “I mean, what can we do?”

 

“What are you talking about?” Ron asked, his voice still thick with mucus. “We save Luna, and then we finish the Slytherin Seven. We follow the plan.”

 

“But how?” Hermione asked desperately. “Mich-” she broke off in the middle of the word. She took a calming breath and continued. “They were the only ones who could go against Voldemort or Owen Stetnas…what chance do we have?”

 

“Well I think that’s pretty obvious,” Ron said, “We go to STRIKE and get their help. You can take us to them, right?” he asked Jeff and Sarah.

 

Jeff narrowed his eyes at Ron, neither confirming nor denying this. Sarah was too busy to answer; she had carefully taken Jeff’s broken arm in her hand and was attempting to mend it. Hermione, however, was not. She dropped Ron’s hand.

 

“What are you talking about?” Hermione snapped. “We can't go to STRIKE, they’ll find out about Luna!”

 

“Which is what we need!” Ron shot back. “Things have changed! We don’t have Michael anymore and we don’t have Luna! The only way we can save her is with their help!”

 

“You want to ruin everything Michael did?” Hermione asked sharply. “You’re going to insult his memory by doing the exact opposite of what he wanted!”

 

“I'm going to save his wife!” Ron yelled at her. “Dammit Hermione, what’s wrong with you? Don’t you think if he was here now, Michael would do everything he could to save her?”

 

“Yes, he would! Save her from Voldemort and from STRIKE!”

 

“But we can't!” Ron hurled at her. “You’re the smart one, why don’t you get it? Without Michael and Luna we can't fight them! If we get wrapped up in a duel with the two of them, we’re finished! We’ll get stronger, better, but not yet.”

 

“If you plan on going to STRIKE,” Hermione said, standing up and trying to compose herself, “you’ll have to go without me. Is that the plan?”

 

“If it has to come to that, it will,” Jeff said slowly. “I know it goes against everything Michael believed, but if we can't find any other way to save Luna, we’ll have to do it. He valued her life above anything else...including his own.”

 

“Then you won't be doing this with me.”

 

Hermione drew her wand.

 

“I’ll save her myself if I have to, just stay out of my way!”

 

Ron tried to reach out and take her hand, but she was already turning and had vanished.

 

Ron stared wide eyed, his hand still outstretched. He blinked a few times, the stood up. For a second Harry thought he too was going to leave, but he began to pace furiously back and forth, fists clenched, trying to work out what had just happened.

 

“We’ll put it to a vote,” Jeff said eventually, as Sarah finished her work and clasped her hands in front of her. “If you think we should go to STRIKE right now, raise your hand.”

 

Ron was the only one to raise his hand, though Sarah seemed to hesitate a little before laying hers back in her lap.

 

“All right, what should we do then?” Ron growled at them. “What's the brilliant plan now?”

 

“I think we should set a deadline,” Harry said quietly. “I think we should give ourselves three days. If we haven't rescued Luna by then, we go to STRIKE and explain everything. Unless we hear something about her, in which case we go immediately.”

 

“I’ll second that,” Jeff muttered. He raised his hand and the other two copied him. “We should probably put up a Fidelius Charm, as well as all the other enchantments we can think of. I’ll do it, and if you’ll be Secret-Keeper….”

 

Harry nodded and rose up the sofa. He accompanied Jeff to the den, which was the center of the house. Sarah stayed in place, staring down at the ground, where her tears were beginning to pool. Ron started to say something to her, but whatever it originally was, it turned into a terrifying, “DAMMIT!” He punched the wall that divided the living room from the hall on the other side, making a small hole with his fist.

 

Sarah didn’t bother to look up.


	29. Chapter 29: The Darkest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Lucius says your husband was killed in the fighting, is that correct?” Narcissa asked coolly. Luna forced her head into the up and down motion that indicated correctness. “He also tells me that you were the one who killed my sister, Bellatrix, several months ago.”
> 
> Luna looked back up at the woman. Narcissa’s face remained a mask, the epitome of total composure.
> 
> “I did,” Luna answered plainly. “She was about to kill Michael, and I stopped her. I suppose that makes you hate me as much as your husband does. You must be here to hurt me, as well.”

Luna sat against the deceptively pleasant crème colored wall, her knees pulled up against her chest, her eyes beginning to droop as she stared ahead. Her cell wasn’t really a cell, far from it. It was actually a rather posh spare room in an equally expensive manor from what she could tell. She sat on soft, immaculately clean carpet and simply stared ahead at the door on the other side of the room. She was not handcuffed, chained, or restrained in any way. Instead, she could feel some kind of spell had been placed on this room to render her weak and lethargic, unable to muster any fight or resistance. It was similar to the way a Dementor drained all the happiness from a person, except in this case it was her energy that was being sapped. Luna couldn’t remember the last time she moved…or ate…she only told time by how often Voldemort or Lucius Malfoy or Owen Stetnas entered the room.

She couldn’t fight back. She had no wand, and even if she did, she had no strength left to use it. Michael was dead. She was captured. Her powers had left her.

It had been two days since her life had been taken from her.

Hope was a meaningless idea, foreign to her now.

The doorknob she had been watching so dully began to turn, and what little energy Luna had left caused her to tense and try to push herself a little closer to the wall. Who would it be this time? Voldemort, to taunt her? Owen, to torture her? Or Malfoy, to make more ominous remarks about what he would do to her once Voldemort permitted it…?

Luna found she didn’t care much.

The door open and the person stepped quickly inside, shutting it quietly behind them, trying not to make too much noise as the door clicked shut. As worn as Luna was, she still managed to look surprised at the person who had entered. It was indeed Malfoy, but not Lucius, nor Draco.

Narcissa looked down at Luna, her hands held behind her back, standing straight and tall. Luna met the woman’s eyes – blue stared into blue. Luna’s formerly bright ones had been dulled by the horrors she had experienced at the hands of the Death Eaters, she had seen it when she caught a glimpse of herself in a bathroom mirror. But what shocked her was that Narcissa’s eyes had the same quality.

“Hello,” Luna said quietly, not breaking eye contact. “You're Draco’s mother, aren’t you?”

Narcissa studied her for a moment before nodding slightly.

“I am. He spoke of you occasionally at school, Miss Lovegood. He said you were an oddity that spouted off about made up creatures and places, and who spent time in Harry Potter’s entourage.”

“Harry is my friend,” Luna replied softly, not bothering to correct any of the other descriptions of her. But then she shook her head and looked away from Narcissa. “And I'm sorry, but my name is Luna Jacobs. I was married earlier this month,” she whispered, suddenly unable to breathe.

“Lucius says your husband was killed in the fighting, is that correct?” Narcissa asked coolly. Luna forced her head into the up and down motion that indicated correctness. “He also tells me that you were the one who killed my sister, Bellatrix, several months ago.”

Luna looked back up at the woman. Narcissa’s face remained a mask, the epitome of total composure.

“I did,” Luna answered plainly. “She was about to kill Michael, and I stopped her. I suppose that makes you hate me as much as your husband does. You must be here to hurt me, as well.”

Narcissa’s eyes widened at that, her façade finally slipping just a little, but not enough for Luna to divine any real emotions within her. Her hands were still clasped behind her.

“I have one more question for you,” Narcissa said, moving closer to Luna, who couldn’t help but flinch, sure she was about to be cursed for killing the woman’s sister. “You and your…group are friendly with an Auror named Nymphadora Tonks, are you not?”

“She’s one of my favorite people,” Luna said, her mouth almost moving into a smile. “She makes her face change all throughout meals…it makes it hard to eat sometimes, but it’s always very funny.”

Narcissa seemed disinterested in this rambling reminiscence of Luna’s. “Then do you know her mother?” she asked, suddenly crouching down next to the girl with dirty blonde hair.

“I don't,” Luna said, a little curiosity in her voice now. She could now look at Narcissa evenly, rather than having to gaze up at her. The older woman’s lip momentarily trembled. “She would be your sister, isn’t that right?”

“Andromeda has not been my sister in years,” Narcissa said fiercely. But as she glared at Luna, she could tell the malice in her voice was false. No, it was purposely planted there to lead others astray from her real feelings.

“I don't think that's true,” Luna told her boldly. “I don't think someone can stop being your sister, for better or worse. Michael's – my – friend Jeff, he has a brother who he often claims to hate…but I don't think that's true either. Bellatrix might have hated your sister, but I don't think you do,” Luna said calmly. “You're not like Bellatrix.”

“You think you know me?” Narcissa sneered, standing back up.

“Bellatrix wouldn’t have brought me food,” Luna replied, painfully raising a hand to point at Narcissa.

Narcissa Malfoy sighed and pulled her hands from behind her, revealing a plain loaf of bread that smelled as if it had just been baked. Luna and Narcissa locked eyes one more time as Narcissa wavered, then she held out the bread for Luna to take.

She hurriedly took it and began tearing off large pieces with her teeth. Narcissa looked on with disdain.

“Good Lord girl,” she said, “when was the last time you ate?”

Luna finished chewing a hunk of bread and savored the feeling of it in her empty stomach before she answered.

“I think I had a few pieces of a very long sandwich at Sarah’s party before we went to sleep,” Luna said between bites. “I don't like to sleep on an empty stomach.”

At Luna’s admission, the disgust in Narcissa’s face became more pronounced.

“You have the right to a few miserable bites of bread to eat,” Narcissa said haughtily.

“That's what makes you different from them,” Luna said, a little of her usual dreamy tone returning with food. “They don't think that's true, they don't treat me like a human being. You do.” She coughed a little – she had after all eaten a large amount of bread with no drink. “You're not evil, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“I am a faithful servant of the Dark Lord!” Narcissa snapped, although she – without seeming to think about it – walked over to a desk on the other side of the room, picked up the single empty glass provided to Luna, and filled it with water from her wand. She thrust the glass at Luna without looking at her, spilling a little water on them both.

“But you don't have a Dark Mark,” Luna observed, sipping on the water to make it last, her once again wide eyes on Narcissa’s exposed forearm. She defensively crossed her arms. For the first time in three days, Luna smiled.

“It makes me happy to know there are still good people everywhere,” Luna said, setting the glass down carefully beside her. Slowly and agonizingly, she pushed her hands up against the wall behind her and stood up. “You may not look at life like I do, or want the same things I do, or even care about people the way I do…but you helped me,” Luna continued to smile at an increasingly horrified looking Narcissa. “I've been surrounded by monsters for so long…I had almost forgotten how much good there is in the world, even in the places we’d never expect to find it.”

“My giving you a loaf of bread has restored your faith in humanity?” Narcissa asked mockingly.

“Your act of humanity did,” Luna answered. “I don't think you want me to suffer, or anyone especially. I think you only care about your son…compassion is the most valuable trait humans have, I think,” Luna said firmly. “Wherever my life takes me from here, even if it’s about to come to an end soon, I hope you and your son can have a better life than what _he_ brings.”

Luna choose not to use the Dark Lord’s name for fear of upsetting Narcissa further, as the woman already looked as though Luna had threatened to kill her.

“Do not expect this kindness again,” Narcissa said coldly, backing away from Luna, her wand drawn.

“I don't need to,” Luna said, still perfectly calm despite Narcissa’s patently obvious discomfort. Luna was used to that kind of reaction around her, and while she wasn’t especially fond of it, there was something strangely comforting in its familiarity. “You’ve given me enough to survive on for as long as I have to now.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about…” Narcissa said, nearly at the door now.

“I hope I've given you something in return,” Luna said earnestly. “Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy.”

Narcissa opened her mouth, shut it, moved her lips in a strange way that showed her teeth as if she was going to speak through them, but then merely gave Luna a final nod, turned on her heel, and exited the room. Luna heard the usual locking spells being placed on the door from the other side.

Luna shut her eyes, feeling everything around her…and with a small prayer, searching hopefully for the presence of her husband. Luna was strong again, thanks to nothing more than Narcissa Malfoy’s loaf of fresh bread. It wasn’t the food itself that saved her, although it helped. Her stomach still rumbled, her body still ached from torture, but her light…the light inside her was back. The light that in Ginny was called feistiness, in Jeff stubbornness, in Michael determination, and in Luna was simply called brightness. The light, the fire, inside that kept her moving, kept her alive, had been reignited by the act of basic decency.

Suddenly, Luna was certain again. Even if she could not guarantee she would survive this ordeal, she was certain she now had a reason to care and the strength to try.

******************************************************************************

Over the next few days, Harry, Jeff, Sarah, and Ron confined themselves to Michael and Luna's house, trying to devise a feasible plan to rescue Luna. They first attempted to divine where she might be.

The most likely places were Azkaban, which had not exactly fallen to Voldemort but was quietly suspected of hiding certain prisoners for him, and Malfoy Manor, the home of the only two notable surviving Death Eaters, Draco and Lucius Malfoy. They had agreed that they would accept help from Remus and Tonks, who already knew about Luna, and would aid them in saving her.

Harry and Ron made daily trips to Grimmuald Place, where they could meet and plot with members of the Order. So far they had heard nothing of Luna's whereabouts, or Sirius' either. Harry and Ron had just returned to their safe haven around midday and they found Jeff and Sarah in the living room.

Sarah was holding a newspaper. Both were talking quietly and looked grim. They looked up as Harry and Ron entered the room.

“Any word about Luna?” Jeff asked immediately.

“Nothing,” Harry replied. “What's in the paper? You two don't look happy.”

They hesitated. “It's Hermione,” Sarah said eventually. “She's in the news.”

“Is she all right?” Ron asked quickly. He had said nothing about Hermione since she had left, but obviously felt responsible. “What's happened?”

“Physically, she's fine,” Jeff said darkly, “But mentally, I don't know…here, you should probably see this for yourself.”

He held out the paper to Ron, who took it warily. He didn't have to flip pages to find the mention of Hermione, he didn't even have to open the paper. His yell of shook mingled with Harry's. They looked down at the headline together.

_Youngest Member of Malfoy Family to Marry_

Below the caption was a picture of Draco Malfoy, sneering at the camera, looking arrogant as ever. A picture of a nervous Hermione was next to it.

“ _Draco Malfoy, 17, has just announced his engagement to Hermione Granger, also 17, a pretty Muggleborn girl who attends Mr. Malfoy's school. Mr. Malfoy has recently been unable to attend Hogwarts School, as he has been ill with a serious disease. He seemed to be completely over his ailment, however, when he made his statement to the press._

_'I was really in a bad position,' he says, 'I couldn't go to school for a very long time, due to some unfortunate circumstances. But I think I'll be okay now, things should be much better.'_

_Indeed they should. Bolstered not only by his recovery, but also by his impending marriage to Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy has a very bright future ahead of him. His choice to marry a Muggleborn girl surely reflects well on the Malfoy family, placing them above suspicion of blood based prejudice. We at the Daily Prophet wish him only the best._ ”

“What the hell is going on?” Ron said loudly. “What is Hermione doing? Is this to spite me, is that what this is?”

“What if Malfoy's forcing her?” Harry said, sounding worried. “What if she tried something, got caught, and now he's making her do this?”

“I'll kill the bastard,” Ron growled angrily, “I'll fucking kill him!”

“That's bullshit and you know it,” Jeff said, unusually poor tempered. “Hermione's far too intelligent and magically powerful for Draco Malfoy to force her to do anything. And anyway, why would he want to?”

“What does that mean?” Ron asked furiously. “Hermione's not good enough for him? Is that it, cause she's Muggleborn?”

“I'm Muggleborn, idiot,” Jeff snapped. “And I meant how they despise each other as much as…as Michael and Owen Stetnas hated each other. As much as Harry and Voldemort. She must have some kind of plan, maybe she’s hoping she can get close to Luna this way.”

“But Voldemort would never be stupid enough to allow that,” Harry muttered. Jeff nodded.

“Unless he has his own designs. From what it looks like, Hermione’s put herself in the belly of the beast to try and outwit the Dark Lord himself. Noble, if that is what she’s trying, but….”

“Well, how do we stop this?” Ron asked. “How can we stop this wedding?”

“Stop this wedding?” Sarah repeated incredulously, her voice low and dangerous. “ _Stop this wedding_? Luna's been kidnapped by Lord Voldemort and Owen Stetnas and you're worried about Hermione's personal choices?”

“I'm worried about what Malfoy's doing to her!” Ron snarled.

“She made her choice,” Jeff said calmly. “She left and now she's with Malfoy. She might have a plan, I don't know. She didn't want us in on it, whatever it is. Forget her. We need to save Luna, and get the Seven, not crash a wedding.”

“I'm not letting Hermione do this!” Ron shouted, drawing his wand. “She can't, she won't!”

“Fuck you,” Jeff said with all the disdain he could muster, standing up and taking a step towards Ron, their faces inches apart. Ron didn't back down. “Luna's having God knows what done to her and you're thinking about your… what is she anyway? Definitely not your girlfriend!”

“Of course I care about Luna; I wanted to get help from STRIKE!” Ron shouted, his face red. “You're the one who wanted to wait! I want to act now! I want to do something!”

“I was wrong about you Ron,” Jeff spat. Sarah had now stood up behind him, Harry behind Ron. “When I first met you, I thought you were a good Gryffindor who whined too much and had no experience in the world outside of school.” Ron looked slightly taken aback, but took it as a compliment. At first.

“But I thought you had changed,” Jeff continued, “I was wrong. How does someone with six siblings end up acting like such a spoiled child? 'I want to act now!' Do you know what happen if the four of us ran blindly into Voldemort or Stetnas? We'd be joining Michael before you know it, and Luna would be in the same position she is now! I would _love_ to slaughter the pair of them, and a month ago I probably would have tried! But _I'm_ not going to be the one to fuck up what little hope Luna has left by acting like a complete idiot!”

Ron made to punch Jeff just like Michael had so long ago, on St. Lucia. Regardless of a similar scar, unfortunately, Ron was not as quick. Jeff ducked Ron's blow and Ron slipped to the floor as Jeff sidestepped him.

“Screw you two!” Ron yelled at Jeff and Sarah. His face was contorted by pain, though it was not physical. “Hermione was right to leave! I'm gone!”

“Let's go then,” Harry said, finally speaking. He didn't sound angry like Ron, only sad and hurt and confused. “We're going to do what we think is best. You two will – like always – do as you please,” he added to Jeff and Sarah. He helped Ron up and together they Disapparated from the Jacobs' home, materializing instead at the steps of Grimmuald Place.

Harry knocked a few times, then they waited, Ron breathing heavily, until Remus answered the door. He admitted them without a word. He led them into the kitchen, where Harry was surprised to find Tonks seated at the table.

“Your food's getting – Harry?” she asked in surprise, looking up from her plate. Harry looked sideways at Lupin, whose expression communicated to Tonks he had no more idea than she did why they were here. Harry realized what he had walked into and would have felt slightly guilty, were he not still fuming from the fight with Jeff and Sarah.

“What brings you back so soon?” Lupin asked, concern obvious on his lined and scarred face, “What happened?”

“How can we help?” Tonks asked, her eyes narrowed.

Harry explained the argument they had had with the other two, as Ron was too angry to form a coherent sentence. Lupin looked surprised at hearing Hermione's actions, but did not at Harry and Ron's reaction.

“And it's not like we don't care about Luna,” Harry finished, “we just think we should at least try to find Hermione and talk to her about this.”

Lupin nodded and stood up, waving his wand. Three cups appeared, and he rummaged through a cabinet, pulling out a bottle of Firewhiskey. He poured them each a glass. Harry took a small drink, but Ron downed his entire glass in one gulp.

“I can appreciate your concern, Harry, and believe me, I'm worried about Hermione as well,” Lupin said seriously. “But even if you did decide to try and talk to her – when she's no doubt surrounded by Death Eaters – no one knows where she is, or any of the Malfoys for that matter. They abandoned their home yesterday.”

Ron swore. “You think she's doing this to try and find Luna, don't you?” Harry asked Lupin, glancing discretely at his best friend. Remus nodded.

“Of course she is. No one – including the Malfoys – would believes she would actually want to marry Draco. No, I'm sure Hermione has a plan, but Voldemort will as well. She's playing a very dangerous game, trying to outsmart him while sharing a home with his top lieutenant.”

“What if he uses her as a hostage?” Harry asked bluntly. “What if he threatens to kill her to get to me?”

“Hermione must have convinced him she is more valuable to him as something other than a bargaining chip,” Tonks said, scratching her chin.

Lupin paused and helped himself to a little of his drink. “Dora has half the Auror department looking for Luna.”

Tonks smiled encouragingly at the two boys, though her expression faltered quickly.

“They won't find her,” Ron said harshly. “Not with You-Know-Who and Stetnas holding her, they'll have her locked up tight.”

“And you still are against getting help from Michael's organization – STRIKE?” Lupin asked delicately.

“It was the last thing he wanted,” Ron said determinedly. “If they find her she'll go from one form of prison to another.”

“Sirius…” Harry muttered sadly, shaking his head. Remus stared down into his glass. Ron stood up. “I need time to think,” he said gruffly, turning and striding out of the kitchen, taking his glass with him. Tonks stood up as well, placed her hand gently on Remus' shoulder, and then followed Ron, giving the grieving men their privacy. Lupin looked up and met Harry's eyes.

“What happened to Sirius, Harry?”

“I don't know,” Harry replied. “I really don't know. He seemed happy enough, he didn't seem to mind working with STRIKE. Things were looking up, for him and Michael and now…who knows where he is.” Harry took a sip and realized Lupin was giving him a very strange look. “What?”

“We both saw it Harry – we both know he was the one who killed your friend.”

“It was an accident!” Harry began furiously, but Lupin silenced him with a raised hand.

“I know that, of course it was,” he said quietly. “Do you think Sirius cares? He won't forgive himself easily for this, Harry, I knew him a long time…Sirius may not handle this reasonably….”

“What are you saying?” Harry asked desperately, angrily. “You think he's gone off and killed himself?”

“Sirius…has had a very hard life Harry,” Remus said simply. He raised his glass to take a drink, but stopped with it touching his lips. He set it down without another word.

“He's not a coward,” Harry said, his hands shaking. “Sirius would never take that way out.”

There was a pause.

“What about your friend, Michael?” Remus asked finally. “Have you…had a service for him?”

“Saving his wife will be our service to him,” Harry said firmly, his voice hiding the sadness that shook him at this statement. “All he wanted was a good life for him and Luna,” Harry said, tears shaming his eyes as he said it. Remus watched him with a similar look on his face. “That's all he ever wanted. He wanted to fight and win this war for her. She was the reason he came to Hogwarts in the first place. He was supposedly there to protect me and the school, but he had really come for Luna. They were friends as children and he had decided to come to find her.

“He betrayed his entire organization for her and put himself at risk to keep her a secret…that's why Ron and I are so against asking them for help. They had just got a house together – that's where we were living. Remus, they had so much planned for their future…and now neither of them might have a future at all. He didn't even get the chance to die for her…” he muttered dejectedly. Lupin’s eyes widened in shock at that statement. Harry shook his head. “Michael didn't _want_ to die, but if he had to, I know he would've wanted to do it protecting Luna. Instead he was killed by a friend, and Luna got taken to Voldemort less than a minute later. That's not what was supposed to happen, Remus….”

“None of this was supposed to happen,” Remus said sympathetically, leaning in towards Harry. “You're not a child Harry, but you're not a grown man either. Yet…here you sit, having faced horrors worse than most could imagine. Too much has been asked of you.”

“I'm still alive,” Harry said quietly. “I have more to give.”

Lupin opened his mouth to say something, but Harry cut him off with a yell, his scar suddenly burning more painfully than it had since his vision of Sirius at the Ministry, thrusting him into Voldemort's thoughts.

His point of view had reverted back to Voldemort's eyes, and he was striding down a hallway, possessed of a sense of level joy and pleasure. As he walked, horrible screams filled his ears. His smile widened slightly as he turned the crystal knob of the door at the end.

“Where is he now?” Owen's taunt was followed by another drawn out scream from Luna, who was on her hands and knees, shaking with the effort of staying up. She looked up at Owen defiantly. Her face was bruised black and purple and there was dried blood on her pale arms and legs. Her sweater was missing a sleeve and her pants had holes in both knees. “Where's Michael? Is he going to jump out of a closet and kill me and save you?” Owen looked around in mock desperation, then laughed again. “No...I don't have to worry about Michael because I'm not afraid of ghosts!” Owen was leering at Luna, breathing heavily, when he finally seemed to notice – or at least acknowledge – Voldemort.

“Mr. Stetnas,” Voldemort said, disturbingly businesslike, disregarding the pitiful sight of the girl in front of him. “I trust you are enjoying your reward?”

“Very much,” he said, casually hitting Luna with another curse. She bit back a scream, but was thrown to the ground and rolled over onto her face. “This place isn't bad either, Malfoy's done very well for himself, hasn't he Voldemort?”

His eyes narrowed at the use of his name, but he said nothing of it. “I have managed to locate another of the Slytherin Seven,” he said, smirking at the little gasp Luna made, “and am leaving to retrieve it shortly.”

“Which one?” Owen asked, only half interested and aiming a hard kick at Luna. She grunted but did not cry out. “And where is it?”

“It is the Mask of Three,” Voldemort told him. “I will be leaving soon, and I need you to continue to…guard Miss Lovegood.”

“Jacobs…” Luna's voice was weak, but firm.

“What did you just say?” Owen growled. He grabbed Luna's dirty, hair and pulled her to her feet. He placed his wand under her chin.

“My. Name. Is. Luna Jacobs,” she said clearly. Her voice was cracked and weak, but at the same time had an undeniable defiance behind it. “You monster,” she added to Owen, apparently as an afterthought.

She hit the wall hard and fell to the ground, unconscious.

“My, my, she's feisty,” Voldemort said softly. “You'll have a hard time breaking one like her.”

“Whatever,” Owen said carelessly. “Where are we going?”

“There is no 'we', Owen, as I have already told you. You will stay here with her while I go to retrieve the Mask.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Voldemort said unpleasantly, “I believe Harry Potter is currently invading my mind and now knows what my plans are, as well as what has become of Mrs. Jacobs. He and his friends will try to reach the Mask before me, I'm sure.”

He directed his eyes upward, apparently addressing Harry, unaware of the horrible vantage point Harry was being forced to watch from.

“Are you enjoying the show, Harry? Let me make this clear: If you or any of your group attempts to steal the Mask of Three from me, Luna Jacobs will die. Painfully. I say again: Try to take the Mask, and I will make sure you witness her,” he drew his wand in a swift movement and aimed it at Luna's body, “death. You have already lost Jacobs to me and Miss Granger will join him soon enough.

“But please, do try to come to the Malfoys' vacation home here in Scotland, to try and save your friend, Potter. I would love nothing better than to return here and find your corpse awaiting me. Maybe Luna might even be able to stay conscious long enough to –”

His monologue was cut short as a white-blonde wolf launched itself on top of him, taking him to the ground. Luna gave a howl of fury, and Voldemort's face showed, for the first time in years, possibly in his adult life, true fear. Before she could strike however, she was blasted off Voldemort by Owen's curse.

She hit the wall, and then fell to the ground, back into her pale human form, her dirty blonde hair obscuring her face. Owen said nothing as Voldemort picked himself up, looking at the same time terribly furious and unnaturally shaken.

His red eyes found Luna slumped on the floor and he pointed his wand at her without a word. Owen watched him closely, apparently hoping Voldemort wouldn't rid him of his prize yet. Stetnas crossed his arms and waited to see what would happen; what had just happened was unprecedented.

“Why,” Voldemort said very quietly, “do I always have such trouble with Animagi?” Owen seemed to be considering answering, but in the end merely shrugged.

He pulled a small dagger from his robes and aimed his wand at Luna.

“ _Imperio_.”

Luna slowly began raise herself up. She stayed on her knees, but looked up at Voldemort with large, vacant eyes, her hair framing her blank face, lips slightly parted. Voldemort held out the knife to her.

“Take it,” he said quietly, coldly, dangerously.

She held out a slightly shaking hand, and Voldemort placed the dagger in it. Her hand closed around the handle and she held it at eye level.

“Now,” Voldemort said clearly, “you are left handed, are you not Luna? Yes? Good. I want you to cut off your right hand, so that Potter can see. Do it now.” Owen sighed. He obviously didn't appreciate Luna being mangled this way.

“Cut off my hand?” Luna repeated. She said it vaguely, but sounded nothing like herself, her voice monotone and dull.

“Correct,” Voldemort said, his mouth twisted into a sick smile. “I could have Stetnas do it for you, but I wish there to be no doubt of my powers. Now get up, I'll let you have the dignity of standing on your own two feet.”

Luna obeyed and jerkily unbent her knees, rising up to Voldemort's height. They were feet from each other and Voldemort's red eyes burned into Luna's pale blue ones.

She stretched out her right arm and held the blade to her wrist, but stopped.

“You want me to maim myself?” Luna asked again slowly, as if another person was speaking for her. “Like Owen?” Behind Voldemort's back, Stetnas' face warped with comprehension. He opened his mouth and raised his wand, but then shut it and let his arm fall back to his side.

“Yes, that's exactly what I want,” Voldemort said, now impatient. “Do you think you can do that for me, Miss Jacobs?”

Luna stared at him, her face still blank, knife pressed against her arm. Her mouth barely moved as she gave her simple answer.

“No.”

Before Voldemort could even process what Luna had said, her hand had pulled away from her wrist, instead swinging the blade towards Voldemort. His reaction was quick enough to stop Luna cutting his throat, but not fast enough to avoid the blade completely.

It cut through the skin on his face, leaving a long wound across his right eye, almost exactly the same as the one her husband had obtained from him over a year ago, trying to avenge the other man who had been torturing her for days.

Once again, though after a second's hesitation, Voldemort was saved by Owen's quick spell. The knife was blasted from Luna's hand before she could strike again, the spell shattering the bones in her hand as it did. Owen looked unhappy as he did so, or at least disappointed.

Voldemort cast two spells with his wand. The first Cruciatus Curse continued to act on Luna even as he cast a Healing Charm on his injury. Like Michael's _Sectumsempra_ wound, the bleeding stopped as well as most of the pain, but there was no avoiding the scar that would follow.

Voldemort ran a long finger down the wound, opening and shutting his eye, keeping his wand pointed at Luna, barely aware of her screams, before turning to Owen.

“Do whatever you wish with the girl,” Voldemort said, his hiss voice somehow audible over Luna's horrible screams. “Because once I return, I am killing her. _No arguments_.”

“Whatever I want?” Owen said hungrily, adding in his own Crucio on top of Voldemort's. “I get to keep playing?”

“You really do remind me of Bellatrix,” Voldemort said thoughtfully. He then remembered who had killed her and sent another, more powerful jolt at Luna. “The only reason I let her live now is because I have yet to decide on a way painful enough for her to die. But no, not _whatever_ you wish.”

Luna gave a last ear piercing scream, then rolled over on her face and made no more noise, her body twitching slightly. Voldemort returned its wand to its place inside his cloak.

“Hmm…you're no fun,” Owen said, looking disappointed, like a child who had had his favorite toy taken away, and walking over to examine Luna, “I think we may have broken her…”

“Oh, I doubt it,” Voldemort said softly, turning to leave. “You are a powerful Wizard, but there are so many things you do not understand…”

“Like what?” Owen demanded, rolling Luna over prodding her with his foot a few times, trying to wake her.

“For instance, why you could never hope to overpower Luna Lovegood… Jacobs…whichever, it doesn't matter now.”

“What are you talking about?” Owen said angrily, “I could have destroyed Michael Jacobs, and his wife, what is she compared to me? Michael was never near my power…well, okay, he was in close proximity to my person, but in terms of magical ability, he wasn't as strong as me.”

“Odd you played the role of his sidekick for so long then,” Voldemort said under his breath, amused.

“I never did thank you for the attempted murder, by the way,” Owen grinned at the Dark Lord. “Really opened my eyes to the fun of lawless living. But still, fuck Michael.”

“I never said anything about Michael Jacobs. Even if he were still alive, I would concern myself far more with his wife than with him,” Voldemort said quietly. “Do you know who her mother was?” Voldemort added, his back still to them.

“No…not a clue. Am I supposed to guess this is where she got her looks from?”

“She was a Captain in STRIKE and one of the most powerful Witches of her era, possibly among the best to have ever lived,” Voldemort informed him. He began listing achievements as though writing a resume for Luna's dead mother. “Elysina Lovegood helped Dumbledore found his Order. She rallied her division of STRIKE to come very near implicating Death Eaters from trusted families like the Lestranges and Malfoys. Under her leadership STRIKE, the Auror department, and the Order of the Phoenix worked seamlessly together – without ever knowing it. She prevented my only direct attempt at assassinating the Minster of Magic in 1978 and in the process personally killed or captured six Death Eaters at once. To say she was the most talented woman in the first war would not be hyperbole. Her death was…overdue.”

“And what does this mean to me?” Owen asked, scratching his nose.

“Very little,” Voldemort sighed, “I suppose it matters very little now, but soon you will understand why she is so important, and as a result, why she must die or turn.

“I admit, I had considered having her die with Jacobs, but you have been faithful to me, so I allowed you to keep the girl. Perhaps you will understand how important she is, how powerful she could be, and how powerful she is…But it will not matter, I suppose,” he repeated, “she will die soon, and with Jacobs gone too, my way will be clear…after I finish business with that old fool and his Order.”

“Are you going to explain what the hell you're talking about?” Owen demanded. “I just saved your life twice!”

“Did you now?” Voldemort asked, smiling slightly, though Owen couldn't see. “You know better than that, Owen. Regardless, I offer that once I return, I will make everything clear to you. About Luna Jacobs, about the Seven, about all my plans concerning them….”

“Whatever hops your Hippogriff,” Owen said indifferently.

“You're speaking nonsense again, Stetnas,” Voldemort said disdainfully.

“Well, it must have rubbed off on me, given present company,” Owen said nonchalantly, pretending to inspect a spot on his shoe.

The Dark Lord's anger surged powerfully enough to remind Harry where and who he was. “What exactly do you mean by that?” he asked dangerously.

“Her,” Owen said with a small shrug, pointing down at Luna. “Even if we tortured her for days she couldn't get any madder than she already is.”

“A family tradition I do not think she is aware of, now that I think of it,” Voldemort said, smiling again as best he could.

“Excuse me?”

“I once held her mother, Elysina, in a very similar situation,” Voldemort said coldly. “In the last war. She was not the same as dear Luna…but she was just as defiant.”

“So…what I take from this then,” Owen said slowly, “is that her mum escaped. Right?” Voldemort narrowed his eyes at Owen. “Obviously you didn't kill her there, and I know you wouldn't let her go…so…she escaped, didn't she?”

“In a way,” Voldemort said simply.

“What happened, did she make a break for it while Malfoy was trying to swoon her and tell her how beautiful she looked?”

“What are you talking about, Stetnas?” Voldemort asked sharply. Both his eyes – red and wounded – were locked onto Owen's.

“Didn't you know?” Owen asked delicately. “Why…I was sure Lucius had gotten your permission….”

“I do not have time for your games, Owen, tell me what you saw,” Voldemort said, anger slowly mutating his features into something even less human that usual.

“I assumed it was one of the perks of seniority,” Owen said unconcernedly. “You wouldn't let me have Luna because she was Malfoy's. She wasn't interested, though,” he added after a momentary pause. “She messed him up pretty good before he could act on his urges. Haven't you seen Lucius lately? He's not looking so good after the two of them had it out.”

Without a word, Voldemort swept out of the room, leaving the door open behind him. He strode quickly down the hallway, eyes suddenly afire. Voldemort grappled with his fury for a moment as he walked before finally coming to a stop near a receding nook in which a vase or other decoration might usually be placed.

The Dark Lord carefully extracted his wand from within his robes, examining it for a moment. He wondered briefly how much longer he would be forced to work with such a subpar weapon, but pushed the thought from his mind quickly. Lord Voldemort had much more pressing issues to deal with at the moment.

“Lucius,” Voldemort called clearly.


End file.
